


change this world

by sarcastissa, SnorkleShit



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bisexual Male Character, Crushes, Depression, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Church/Tucker, Implied/Referenced Church/Wash, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Sequel, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Shameless Smut, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, because I'm a lying liar, can be read as pre-chuckington, try to tag without spoiling??, tucker needs a hug, wash needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 96,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastissa/pseuds/sarcastissa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/pseuds/SnorkleShit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The totally cliche'd high school au where Tucker and Wash were best friends as children, but were separated whenever Wash moved away to Mother of Invention.</p><p>Whenever Wash comes back, he's surprised to find that things are more similar to the way they were before than he'd expected.</p><p>(Sequel update: cancelled.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all together now

**Author's Note:**

> "They're gonna clean up your looks  
> With all the lies in the books  
> To make a citizen out of you  
> Because they sleep with a gun  
> And keep an eye on you, son  
> So they can watch all the things you do"  
> -"Teenagers" by My Chemical Romance

The town looks basically the same and incredibly different all at once. Granted, he only moved away when he was in elementary school. Plus, he only moved a town over or so. 

Still, it feels...good, to be back. Invention was nice, they had a nice house and he did well in school. But he'd never really connected with anyone. He'd connected with people here. One particular person, mostly.

-

_"Why is it called a sandbox? It's not a box." Young Wash asked, kicking at the sand in question with his toe. The young boy standing next to him rolled his eyes._

_"It's not much of a riddle, Wash. It's just a playground. C'mon, let's go swing."_

-

Wash shook all the happy memories from his childhood back. It wasn't like Tucker and North would all remember him anyway, even if they did, they might not remember him like he remembered them. Hell, they'd probably changed or moved or wouldn't be at the same school he was going to now. The same school he currently stood outside, squinting up at nervously. He strangely didn't mind switching schools halfway through high school.

"Have a good day, son!" His dad called as his car pulled away. Wash waved goodbye, then took a deep breath and headed forward to join the bustling mass of students flooding the doors. He made his way to the office and a are neglect robotic woman named Phyllis gave him his schedule and instructed him on where to find his locker. Now, he stood in wing B, in the bottom hallway where she had said to go, and he couldn't see a single locker in the entire hall. Maybe he'd heard her wrong. He sighed. He didn't want to walk ball the way back and ask again, maybe he should ask someone-

His eyes caught a strikingly familiar figure and he froze in his tracks. It couldn't be. It _was. Lavernius Tucker, in the flesh._

He felt an overwhelming surge of emotion and before he could stop himself he was running across the hall at top speed. 

-

Tucker oofed comically as a blond bullet came at him at full speed and almost knocked him over. He rocked back on his heels before awkwardly wrapping his arms around the body, reciprocating the hug. “Uh...hello?”

Beside him, Church raised his eyebrows and gave Tucker a confused look. 

“Uh, Tucker? Who’s this? Are they replacing me? I never get five minute hugs.”

“Uh...” Tucker blinked slowly and sent Church a ‘help me’ look. “I don’t--” 

He pulled away to actually look at the person that he was holding-- _holy crap._ “Oh my god, Wash!” He grinned and pulled Wash back to him, wrapping his arms around Wash’s neck and pushing his face into his shoulder, laughing a bit whenever Wash hugged him tighter.

“Yeah, I--oh my god I can’t believe you remember me,” Wash laughed as he reveled in the feeling of Tucker in his arms.

“I can’t believe you remember me, I mean--” Tucker pulled away and grinned up at Wash, neither realizing how close they were. “It was years ago and you look...like an asshole, truly.”

Wash threw his head back and laughed, “You are exactly how I remember you, dick.”

-

"What's it been, five years? We were too young to know how to keep in touch." Wash sighed as Tucker walked him towards the actual direction of his locker.

Tucker nodded. "So, uh, you in town for good?"

"Yeah. And man, my parents probably missed you more than I did. Whenever I tried to bring someone home they could never compare to the snarky yet well mannered Tucker. We've moved on Main and Valhalla." Wash told him, giddy with joy that he was with the person he'd thrown a fit for three months over having to leave. 

"That's a really nice neighborhood, even nicer than your last one." Tucker said, looking towards the wall. Wash had never understood why Tucker didn't like where he lived as a kid, but now he got it.

"My mom made it big in the company. My dad's got a new, better programming job here. Livin like Larry, man. You..." An idea struck Wash. Probably not the best idea, but this was coming from the guy who attack hugged someone he hadn't seen in years without warning. "You should come over for dinner." _Just like you used to_. "If you want to, of course." 

-

Tucker grinned and nodded, shaking off the stray feelings that accompanied thoughts about his family. "Sounds awesome. I have a hell of a lot of trig to do, but it'd probably be easier to do with your dad around. I just...look at you, man. Never thought I’d ever see you again,” He smiled happily and took in Wash’s freckled face. And tall stature. “When the _fuck_ did you get taller than me?”

Wash laughed and shook his head, “When did you get so short?” He teased easily, falling back into the beautiful banter that had been their friendship like he never left. Tucker pouted before punching Wash’s arm lightly and shaking his head, not bothering to decipher the fluttering feeling in his stomach.

Tucker let Wash guide him away from Church, who was dramatically lamenting “being replaced” and happily followed the blond’s lead. 

“I’m not actually short, okay? You’re a giant. Not as tall as Maine, but still a giant.” Tucker shifted his books in his arms to point at the crumple piece of paper in Wash’s hand, “What’s that? Your schedule? Wanna see if we have any classes together or let it be a surprise?”

-

"Okay, okay, but what is up with that Sarge guy? I mean, I had some bad gym teachers in Invention, but he takes the cake." Wash told him, pulling his blankets a little more straight. They had been sitting on his bed talking for what felt like a lifetime, and he never wanted to stop.

Tucker laughed. "Yeah, he's got more than a couple screws loose. He made a boy piss his pants last year."

"Jesus Christ. Was it that whiny Simmons kid?" 

"Actually, it was! Grif still won't let him live it down." Tucker chuckled.

Wash quirked an eyebrow. "The lazy kid and the whiner, eh? Are they like- are they a couple? They sure act like it." Wash asked him. 

Tucker shrugged. "Man, they might as well be. Doesn't get much gayer than them. Except Donut and Doc. But Doc is pansexual, so I don't think that counts. Still not entirely sure what that means anyway, but I roll with it."

Wash felt a blush rise on his cheeks as they had reached this subject. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, what are you into? Guys, girls...pans?" He asked, trying to seem casual.

Tucker scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh, girls and boys. Pretty equally. Hope you're cool with that. You're cool, right?" Tucker asked, a little warily.

Wash nodded. "I better be, my dad's bisexual and I'm gay as hell." Which he'd realized in elementary school, thanks to Tucker, ironically. And here they were in his bedroom years later, and his stomach still fluttered. Surely, that old crush couldn't still be...

Tucker's shoulders relaxed and he smiled at Wash. 

"You're dad, really?"

"Yeah, he's got a die hard crush on the guy who plays Killian Jones on that Once Upon a Time show." Wash confided in him.

"His wife has a thing for him too, so it's okay." His mother's chiming voice came forward as she leaned against the door with a smile. "How are you two doing?" 

"Great, Mama Wash. How are you?" Tucker asked with a charming smile.

"A little tired, considering it's midnight." 

Wash blinked at her, then reaches to grab his neglected phone. Sure enough, it's was 12:10. 

"I didn't even realize..." He muttered in surprise.

"Unless Tucker wants to spend the night, I suggest he goes on home and gets some sleep. You both have school in the morning." 

-

“Oh crap, yeah,” Tucker muttered, thanking whatever god was out there that he’d done his homework with Wash whenever they had gotten there. He yawned, realizing how tired he was and stood, stretching and relishing in the pops that his back made. “I should probably get home before they forget I’m not there and lock the doors.”

He turned to grab his stuff--not really wanting to see Wash or his mother’s face after that little tid bit. He made sure that he had everything in his backpack before turning to point at Wash, “I forget, did I give you my phone number yet?”

“Yeah, during gym,” Wash supplied helpfully as the events of the day--moving, waking up early, reuniting with Tucker and everyone else--seemed to catch up with him. Tucker nodded and smiled, surging forward to hug Wash on the bed.

“I’m glad you’re back, blondie,” He whispered before pulling away and messing with Wash’s hair, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Wash muttered, trying to hide his blush.

Tucker nodded to himself and bid Mama Wash farewell and declining a ride before starting off on foot to get “home”, taking the opportunity to steadfastly ignore the bubbly feeling on his chest and the way his smile just wouldn’t go away. He knew that he’d had a crush on Wash five years ago, but he did not expect it to steamroll him the minute after he realized who was hugging him in the hallway.

God, this was going to be torturous. But if Tucker could hide his feelings so that he could be friends with one of the best families he’d ever met that somehow thought that he was worth something?

He’d do it.

\- 

Wash watched Tucker go with a tightness in his chest. His mother turned to raise an eyebrow.

"I expect I'll be seeing him almost every day?" She asked with a knowing grin.

Wash flopped back onto the bed, as his emotions made his heart wrench and his face spread into a constant smile.

"I sure hope so."


	2. silly boy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All my life they let me know  
> How far I would not go  
> But inside the beast still grows waiting  
> Chewing through the ropes  
> Who are you to change this world?  
> Silly Boy!  
> No one needs to hear your words.  
> Let it go."  
> -"Carnivore" by Starset

Tucker tossed Wash a water bottle and plopped down onto his bed, completely screwing up all of the work that Wash had done in organizing his homework.

“God dammit, Tucker,” Wash huffed as he reached out to grab all of the papers that had been scattered. He glared down at Tucker’s “sleeping” form from his perch sitting his his back to the headboard. “I know that you’re not sleeping. We have to study.”

“I don’t wanna,” Tucker whined and tried to hide his face behind Wash’s back. “History is boring and I can’t remember anything.”

“History isn’t boring, you just don’t pay attention,” Wash countered, earning a long Tina Belcher-esque whine as a reply. He turned and forced Tucker into a seated position beside him, muttering about immaturity.

“Why can’t we do this at _your_ house?” Tucker asked, not for the first time, as he actually opened the thousand year old history textbook. Wash sighed, but counted that as progress.

“You know why we can’t. My house is getting painted and the fumes are toxic.” Wash told him again.

“Okay, let me rephrase that,” Tucker made a swiping motion with hand to make Wash look at him. “Why do we have to do this _here_?”

Tucker never really liked to have anyone over at this house. It was too quiet, too ignored. He never felt _good_ here or like he wanted to have fun. He only felt stiff and anxious, like the silence was the calm before a storm. He knew that his friends wouldn’t think less of him, but he’d taken strides to make Wash believe that, somehow, his parents weren’t as bad anymore. He didn’t want _Wash_ to feel sorry for him.

-

"Cause we won't be here long, anyway. Besides, isn't it okay as long as I'm here?" Wash grinned, trying to reassure Tucker. Hopefully distract him from his...less than desirable home life.

Wash plucked up one of the stray papers, and smiled at Tucker.

"Don't be so dramatic, let me just figure out this chemistry formula that I have no idea how to write." He told Tucker, before focusing down at the paper again with a grimace. 

Tucker rolled his neck.

"You just put the reactants on the arm side of the arrow and the products on the other. That's like, 8th grade stuff man." Tucker drawled.  
Wash blinked down at the paper, then glanced up at Tucker.

"I failed eighth grade science. And freshman year. And I cheated to pass it again sophomore year." He said in a deadpan voice.

"You immoral bastard, I'm calling the cops."

"I'm serious! Even my dad couldn't help me understand. I still don't understand whatever the fuck potential gravity is doing on a swing." Wash lamented. "And it's not like my teachers care enough to try harder to explain it, they just get mad after the third time you ask the same question even though they only explain it one way over and over."

Tucker raised his eyebrow. "Well, for one thing, it's not potential gravity. It's gravitational potential energy, which is a bunch of long words that talk about how much potential energy something has based on where it is. Well, where it is in the gravitational field. It's the weight multiplied by the acceleration of gravity multiplied by the height, because the heavier it is the more mass it has.The higher it is, the father to move down towards the earth." Tucker reached into his pocket and casually popped an m&m into his mouth.

Wash blinked up at Tucker.

"You should be a teacher."

-

Tucker snorted and rolled his eyes, even as his shoulders got tense. “Please, its expensive to become a teacher. Its not even just college, man, you have to pay to student teach and it takes up all of your time so you can’t work. Which is why I have to go into the military so that if I do wanna go to college, the United States can foot the bill.”

Wash sighed, realizing even more with startling clarity just how different his and Tucker’s life paths were. He couldn’t even see Tucker in a military environment. The problem was that he could actually see Tucker as a teacher, a good teacher. He could really help people, inspire a new generation, and show kids that they matter. 

But his situation was, quite frankly, shitty. His parents were poor druggies who spent more money on pot than on anything else like their son or their bills. Tucker deserved better.

“Stop looking at me like I’m something broken,” Tucker grumbled and almost violently shoved Wash’s chemistry book into his lap. “Your puppy dog face is annoying.”

“I’m not--”

“I can see your face a bit better than you can,” Tucker reminded him as he sat up and gave Wash a steely look, ready to defend himself.

“Tucker, I know you won’t be broken by this. You’re stronger than that,” Wash told him seriously, cautiously putting his hand over Tucker’s upper arm. Tucker nodded and leaned over Wash to grab his own trig book. He grinned up at Wash and tossed a yellow M&M deftly in Wash’s mouth.

“True bros,” Wash smirked around the chocolate candy.

“Hell yeah,” Tucker grinned. “I bet you all of the green ones that I can finish three trig problems before you can finish one new chemistry problem.”

Wash shook his head, “You’re on, asshole. Stakes?”

Tucker leaned back to grab Wash’s fancy shmancy graphing calculator. He shot Wash a flirty look, “You win and you can have your way with me.”

Wash blushed and threw a couple of M&M’s at Tucker in retaliation, relishing in the resulting laughter.

-

Wash tried not to let on to how much Tucker's joking words made his heart race. Just like he constantly tries not to let on to how much he wanted to have his way with Tucker, all the time. God, he was in deep. 

He turned and tried to focus on his homework, but it was a fruitless attempt. How was he supposed to think about chemistry with Tucker so close to him? And yet so far. 

He kept on glancing at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. Tucker didn’t notice, he was too busy with math, whereas Washington’s paper was blank and would probably remain that way. Maybe studying together with the person who he couldn’t get out of his head hadn't been the smartest choice, from an academic standpoint. Not that he cared. He got to be close to Tucker and that was all that seemed to matter anymore. He’d copy this chemistry shit off of Simmons in the morning, and ask his dad to actually explain it before the test. He could ask Tucker, but the lesson would go over his head because all he’d be able to do would be to stare at Tucker’s lips while he talked. 

He shook that train of thought out of his head and shut his notebook, rolling over and stretching his arms above his head. 

“Man, I’m done. Want to go for a walk or something instead?” Wash asked, preying on Tucker’s urge to get out of his house to get himself out of homework. Genius move, Washington. 

Tucker glanced up at him, and hesitated. Then he sat up.

“Studying was your idea!” 

Wash rolled his eyes. “I’m borrrreeddd and I suck at chemistry. I’ll get my dad to help me tomorrow. Are you done, do you want me to wait for you? Either way I’m not doing this shit anymore, but I’ll wander round the room distracting you if you want.” 

Tucker huffed, but shut his book with a small smirk. Wash rolled off the bed and stood with a smug grin. He grabbed Tucker’s hand and ignored how warm it was, pulling him towards the door.

\-------

Wash breathed out slowly, head tilted slightly up so he could watch his breath fog up in the evening air. 

“Doesn’t the cold make you feel alive?” He sighed happily.

Tucker shot him a glare, arms wrapped around himself as he walked. 

“Fuck no! How does freezing to death make you feel alive? Psycho…” He muttered grumpily. 

Wash laughed. “Asshole, you’re the one who didn’t grab your jacket.” 

Tucker looked away with a sour expression. “It was in the living room and- I just didn’t want to grab it, okay? Fuck off.” 

Wash’s smile faltered. Tucker’s parents had been in the living room. Tucker hadn’t even told them he was going on a walk. Unfortunately, they probably wouldn’t have noticed. Wash smiled, and shrugged off his own jacket, offering it to the other boy. Tucker just shook his head. 

“I’m not a charity case, dude, it’s fine.”

“I’m not pitying you, I want to feel the cold better. Might as well take it, I’m the psycho who wants to get frost bite. Don’t make me force you into it, just fucking take it.” Wash pushed the jacket closer. Tucker paused, and begrudgingly took his jacket and tugged it on. It was leather with cotton on the inside, and Tucker looked really good in it. Wash made a mental note to...forget to take it back.

He turned back to the sidewalk, and smiled wider when he saw they were nearing the neighborhood park. It was a shitty park, the grass was in patches and half the swings were broken, and there was graffiti everywhere. Wash spread his arms, and started to run faster through the grass, enjoying the crisp, cutting cold wind against his face.

-

Tucker laughed lightly at Wash’s antics, deciding against the effort of running with him whenever--in all likelihood--Wash had no real destination in mind. He wrapped the jacket tighter around himself whenever the wind blew particularly hard, trying not to blush at the feeling. The cotton on the inside of the jacket was soft and warm from Wash wearing it and even though it was a bit big, Tucker liked it. A bit too much.

If he didn’t rely so much on Wash’s friendship, he’d try to take it.

He’d almost combusted with embarrassment and gratefulness whenever Wash gave it to him, almost dared Wash to make him wear it, almost leaned up to kiss Wash in gratitude. He wondered how that would go down, him just tugging on Wash’s arm and leaning up to kiss him all casual like.

Wash would probably knock Tucker’s teeth out.

Romantic (sexual harassment) thoughts aside, Tucker took in the color of Wash’s thin cotton henley--thanking any god out there that he wasn’t wearing the dark green one that brought out his eyes. 1) Tucker would’ve thrown a hissy fit because come on. And 2) that particular shade of green was the shade of the newest snake-themed gang which had decided to start a war a week ago with the gang in Tucker’s neighborhood.

“Be careful, Wash,” Tucker called out as he came close to the house of one the higher ups in the drug cartel. He grabbed Wash’s wrist and guided him away.

“I feel like bad things happen in that house,” Wash tried to joke, Tucker’s protective aloofness throwing him off.

“Bad things do. That guy helps the Mexican cartels deliver coke all over the country.” Tucker informed him, redirecting Wash over to the busted up old playground and ignoring the graffiti. “My neighborhood isn’t the best, babe. He’s one of the nicer ones here.”

“Babe?” Wash decided to question, not wanting to actually think about exactly how much trouble Tucker could get into. He let Tucker seat him on one the giant turtles--what were those things even supposed to do, anyway? They were the only things that weren’t broken because they had no purpose.

“Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t already given you a pet name yet,” Tucker answered. “Its a thing that I do.”

“A thing that you do?” Wash asked, amused.

“Fuck yeah, Church has been through like ten different variations of ‘sweetheart’, I now feel pressured to come up with a unique pet name for him and everybody else.”

 _‘Him and everybody else’, what the actual fuck?_ Wash thought to himself, leaning back on the turtle and looking up at the greying sky. He couldn’t help the pit of emptiness and anger in his stomach at the thought of Tucker’s new best friend. Church was an asshole. An angry, bitter, cynical asshole.

And his judgement of the other teenage had nothing (read: everything) to do with the crush he suspected Tucker had on him.

“So, Church...are you two like... _together_?” Wash formed the words like they were acid, his mouth moving faster than his filter.

Tucker laughed and shook his head, “Nah, Church is straight and I’m not into neck beards. Why, jealous?”

“No!” Wash objected, ignoring the bright red blush on his face and the relief in his veins. He leaned up on his elbows and gave Tucker a calculating look. “Do you _wanna_ be with him?”

Tucker frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, “No, Wash. What’s the sudden interest in my sex life about?”

“You talk about him all of the time,” Wash shrugged, trying to stay casual. “I wanted to know if I was, like, taking up all of your time while you wanted to be romancing that dick.”

Tucker laughed and shook his head, boosting himself up to sit next to Wash on the turtle. “The last person I had a crush on was this dick named O’Malley who screwed with Caboose’s head and fucked off with some dick named Wyoming. Now, I’m kinda in a rut. Besides, I talk more about you to literally anybody who would listen then I talk to you about Church.”

-

Wash's face was even hotter against the night air, but he tried to remain casual.

"Me? What is there to talk about?" 

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, really, dude? Long lost best friend slash second family returns and we instantly reconnect? That's got the makings of some a list white person Nicholas Sparks love novel all over it, if we weren't gay and I wasn't black." 

Wash chuckled. "Would we be poised on the cover, almost kissing but not quite?"

"Damn straight." Tucker replied, raising his eyebrow and leaning in with a mocking smile.

"Bow chicka bow wow." 

Wash huffed, and slid off the turtle. He was getting really hot, his skin was on fire and his heart was beating too fast. He needed something to detract from the tension of the situation, a tension only he could probably feel. 

He pulled his shirt over his shoulders and tied the sleeves around his neck like a cape, putting his fists against his hips.

"Not the hero Chorus deserves, but the hero Chorus needs." He declared.

Tucker laughed. "I always pictured you as catwoman."

"Which one? Halle Berry or Anne Hathaway?" Wash asked, turning back to him.

"Halle Berry, obviously." 

Wash smiled. "You know how to speak to a boy, Lavernius Tucker." 

Tucker laughed and took a seat on the grass.

"So, uh...did you have any friends in Mother Of Invention?" Why did this state have such weird city names?

Wash blinked at the change of subject, and turned around. He plopped down in the grass next to Tucker, and immediately started pulling it up.

"Yeah, but one by one they kept moving here's Chorus, like Carolina and York. Guess I had to follow eventually. I didn't do much, I just worshipped my laptop and sucked at sports no matter how hard I tried. And built random engines and shit with my dad." Wash shrugged. 

-

Tucker nodded in understanding and laid back in the grass, watching as the breeze picked up and carried the blades of grass into the wind--appreciating the way Wash’s hair seemed to try to escape with the grass.

“What about you? I mean, I know about Church and Grif, but how did you guys meet? And what’s up with your ridiculous “Red Team vs. Blue Team” thing? Why is that a thing?” Wash questioned, looking down at Tucker, admiring the way he seemed at home in Wash’s jacket, dreads flared out across the grass and nose beginning to grow pink from the chill in the air.

“Well, Church and me and this kid named Flowers and Simmons and Grif and Sarge were all together on the swim team the year after you left. Our coach--Vic--divided us into Blue Team and Red Team and it sorta stuck with us. Especially after the huge prank war that Grif and Sheila started in seventh grade. It was nasty, everyone had to choose a side and it was eventually stopped whenever the principal threatened to hold back the winners a year.”

Wash blinked down at Tucker, “There was a lot of story in those little sentences.”

Tucker snorted, “Yeah.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda jealous that it was so easy for you to find a whole group of friends that have your back. Especially for this long.” Wash looked back down at his hands--remembering that feeling of loneliness that had stalked him for most of his time at the Mothership.

Tucker frowned at the look on Wash’s face, not even a little bit content with the way he looked so alone. Without thinking, Tucker sat up and reached out to grab one of Wash’s hands. 

“Babe, they’re your friends now, too. Caboose has imprinted on you like a duckling. Even if you don’t have a history with us, babe, you’re one of us now. You have a place with us. On Blue Team because Red Team is a bunch of losers.”

Wash snorted and shook his head before turning to look Tucker in the eyes. He squeezed their joined hands let himself think about what he could be able to do if he was courageous enough to tell Tucker about his feelings and not so clingy as to rely so much on his friendship.

In a world like that, Wash would let himself look down at Tucker’s lips--those amazing full lips that are constantly abused by Tucker’s teeth whenever Tucker thinks. He’d lean in until every time he breathed in, it was Tucker’s abandoned air. He’d stay there, watch Tucker’s eyes grow impossibly darker at the invitation, watch as Tucker’s tongue would dart out to lick his bottom lip, watch as Tucker would allow his eyes to flutter closed, his impossibly curly eyelashes dancing over his cheekbones, and bridge the gap between them. The kiss would be tentative at first before Wash would bury his fingers into Tucker dreads and adjust the angle so that it would all be perfect--

“I just lost you, didn’t I?” Tucker joked lightly.

Wash snapped out of his daydream and blushed, “Yeah, sorry. I was just...thinking.”

“You know, I was just joking about the whole ‘having your way with me’ thing,” Tucker cocked one eyebrow and grinned teasingly at Wash, who looked away to hide his blush. He pulled his hand out of Tucker’s and pushed him, making Tucker dramatically fall back onto the ground again. “My own best friend is the one who has the most power to wound my poor aching soul.”

“Drama queen.”

“Wanna see my crown?” Tucker shot back. Both teenagers stared at each other for a bit before bursting out into a giggles. “Alright, lover boy, I think its time for us to go home. Do you wanna walk or just call your mom to pick us up here?”

\------

About twenty minutes later, after bidding Wash a tearful goodbye (much to his father’s amusement), Tucker walked back into the rundown apartment where he lived with his parents.

“Oh, hey,” His mom looked up from watching the TV to look at Tucker. “I didn’t notice you’d left for school yet. Nice of you to let us know that you finally got your freeloading ass out of your room.”

Tucker pursed his lips, but said nothing. Honestly, this type of greeting was more than he could ask for most days. He trudged to his room and flopped down onto his bed, checking his phone to find one new message from Wash.

_[From: Wash_  
We never did our homework, did we?  
sent: 12:59 am] 

__Tucker chuckled and slipped out of his shoes. He pulled Wash’s jacket--oops--around his chest and texted Wash back.

_[To: Wash_  
Nope. Also never gave you the jacket back. Same time tomorrow?  
sent: 1:01 am] 

_[From: Wash_  
It’s a date.  
sent: 1:03 am] 

_[From: Wash_  
I MEAN NOT A DATE  
sent: 1:03 am] 

_[From: Wash_  
A ONE ON ONE MEETING BETWEEN TWO FRIENDS  
sent: 1:03 am] 

_[To: Wash_  
We do have chemistry to work on ;D  
sent: 1:04 am] 

_[From: Wash_  
Fuck off. I’m going to bed. Asshole.  
sent: 1:05 am] 


	3. goodbye my almost lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like "accidental boner" is a p good description of this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Goodbye my almost lover  
> Goodbye my hopeless dream  
> I'm trying not to think about you  
> Can't you just let me be  
> So long my luckless romance  
> My back is turned on you  
> Should've known you'd being me heartache  
> Almost lovers always do"  
> -"Almost Lover" by Jasmine Thompson

Wash stretched his arms behind his head, and leaned against the kitchen counter. His parents wouldn't be home for a few minutes, so it was just him and Tucker.   
"Man, I wish it was nice outside so we could go for a jog or something."

Tucker raised his eyebrow. "Dude, what the fuck. Who voluntarily does exercise like that?" 

"People who want to stay in shape. So they can beat their friend's asses if the need arises." Wash replied, smirking.

"Bullshit, dude. No matter how many laps you run you still couldn't beat my ass. I've got natural tenacity on my side." Tucker declared, putting his hands on his hips.

Wash stood up straight. "Is that a challenge, asshole?"

"You're damn right it is! Square up, motherfucker!" Tucker declared, charging forward. Wash laughed and ran into the living room, where their was more floor space and a cushy carpet. Then he stepped out of the way and tripped Tucker, sending him sprawling down. He pounced on top of Tucker, and tried to pin his arms down. With a lot of cursing and struggling, Tucker managed to flip them over, and pin Wash's arms down instead. He had way more upper body strength than Wash had thought. Wash blinked up at him in surprise, then started to laugh breathlessly. 

Tucker leaned down to intimidate Wash, smirking as he straddled Wash's thighs, keeping him from moving completely. 

"Not so smug now, are you, asshole? AWWW YEAH, TUCKER IS THE REIGNING BADASS IN THE HOUSE, ZERO TO 3000!" He exclaimed, grinning down at his friend.   
His friend who he was still straddling, whose breaths he could feel moving in and out. He could feel Wash's pulse getting a little faster from the way he was holding his hands. On some kind of whim he leaned down closer, pressing their bodies a little more together. 

Wash suddenly felt his face heating up. Surprisingly, he didn't want Tucker to let him go. If they could just stay like this...

They were really close together, chest to chest, just a few inches between their noses. Wash was blushing furiously, and his eyes were wide staring straight up at Tucker. Maybe Tucker should move a little closer. Just tilt his head a little and they could kiss, right here, right now. Suddenly it was all Tucker could think about.

Tucker had this sharp but distant look in his eyes and he was staring down at Wash's lips. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He really wanted to lean up and pull Tucker closer. But, no, he couldn't do that. Could he?

-

Tucker leaned forward a bit, darting his tongue out to lick his lips. Fuck, this was it. Wash clenched his hands into fists and let his eyelids flutter closed, heart racing as he leaned up to meet Tucker’s lips--Tucker’s full, amazing lips that he’s had fantasies about too close for him to let this opportunity fade away--

“Tucker! Face it you little mustard-munchkin! I just found a study proving that I was right--” Wash’s dad yelled in glee as he opened up the door, shrugging out of his jacket and looking up to find Tucker scrambling to stand up and skin flushed with embarrassment.

“Y-y-yeah, sounds...sounds about right,” Tucker stuttered, grabbing his backpack and going to shrug on his jacket--the jacket Wash had basically forced him to accept--and looked down at Wash, still on the floor. He blushed even more, anger at himself for being so stupid and ruining their entire friendship and embarrassment at being caught in the act mingling together and dropping like a rock in his stomach.

“Tucker, what--” Wash questioned, just as red with embarrassment and desire. Wash’s dad looked between the two with a confused face.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“Yeah, kin--”

“No, I was...I was just leaving.” Tucker breathed out quickly as he shoved his arm into the sleeve that he was having trouble with. “Thanks, but I better get home to see if my parents need anything. Birthday coming up and all. I’ll see you guys later.”

And like that, they had gone from almost kissing to Tucker running away.

Wash pursed his lips and sat up, taking a minute to look down at his hands. Maybe he’d misread the signals? It was obvious from the way Tucker had retreated that he wanted nothing to do with Wash romantically. Maybe they’d just gotten caught up in the moment?

“What happened? What’d I do?” Wash’s dad asked, feeling like he’d just ruined something. Wash opened his mouth to tell his dad all about it, but was interrupted--once again--by his cell phone going off.

He sighed and pulled the device out of his pocket to see Maine’s smirking face. He and Maine had grown closer after Wash moved back, even getting to a sorta flirty stage of friendship.

“Hello?”

_”Hey, Wash? You free this weekend?”_

Wash looked at the closed down forlornly, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

_”Wanna go out? On a date?”_

Did it count as a rebound if he and Tucker never actually dated? “Yeah. Sounds good.”

\------

It's been a whole week of Wash doing nothing but pretending he's not heartbroken. Going on dates with Maine. Avoiding Tucker at all costs because he just knows he won't be able to handle the awkwardness of knowing that Tucker knows Wash wants him, but Tucker not feeling the same. He feels horrible for what happened. If he hadn't been so hopeful and desperate for Tucker to kiss him, they wouldn't have gotten caught up in the moment and Tucker wouldn't have realized...wouldn't have gotten freaked out...he just wants his friend back. He'd take all the pain of secretly pining if they could just go back to the way things used to be. 

Maine is nice, but...he makes Wash weirdly uncomfortable sometimes. He doesn't say anything. Maybe it's because Wash is still trying to get over his feelings for Tucker? He doesn't want to hurt Maine's feelings by telling him he's just a rebound, so he just keeps his mouth shut when Maine gets too close or runs his hand up his leg. That's what normal couples do, he's just being stupid. 

Maine's supposed to come over tonight. His mom is working the night shift and his dad will be in the garage working on a project, and he doesn't leave his projects for hours. So all in all, it'll just be him and Maine. Maine is excited about that. The idea makes Wash want to throw up, but he knows that's just because he'd rather be all alone with someone else. And that's a really shitty thing to think, so he keeps his mouth shut. 

\------

Tucker stared up at the Washington house, emotions all mixed up. He left his house to go on a walk, and somehow ended up here. Wash had been avoiding him all week. Probably because Tucker damn near kissed him out of the blue. There's no way Wash didn't realize Tucker felt something for him, and is avoiding him because he doesn't feel the same.

Why would he feel the same? Tucker's got nothing to offer. He's not going anywhere in life. He's stupid, and poor. He's black and he lives in the fucking ghetto. His own parents don't even care if he died in a ditch. The only reason Wash or his parents care about him is because they can't help it- they're all such good people, with good hearts. But Wash's good heart could never go far enough to fall in love with someone as worthless as Tucker, right? He's hot and he's nice and he's smart, he's got so many other options. And he's only avoiding Tucker because he's got too good of a heart to face Tucker and tell him as much. 

He shouldn't be here. He turned around to walk away, and selfishly pulled Wash's jacket around himself, trying to take comfort in it. 

A loud bang and a curse from the garage drew his attention. Wash's dad, Jason. He'd always been so nice to Tucker. Tucker sometimes liked to pretend he's his own father, even though he knows it's stupid. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it. His feet started to head for the garage, and he slowly pulled open the side door. 

-

Jason looked up from his engine, soot and oil covering his face and acting as a great way to enhance the pearly whiteness of his grin. “Tucker, my boy. Its been awhile since you’ve been by. Are you here for little ol’ me or the half-breed?”

Tucker couldn’t help the grin that lifted his cheeks. “Hey, Papa Wash. I actually...don’t know why I’m here. I just started walking and...”

Jason nodded and let his face soften into something a bit more serious. He stood from his perch on top of a ladder and climbed down, wiping the dirtiness from his face with a pink washcloth. “Am I gonna get some serious father figure bonding here? Because I was beginning to forget what it was like to have another son.”

Tucker huffed a bit and shook his head, looking down at his feet. “I don’t think your _actual_ son would appreciate that.”

“Come tell Papa Wash all of your troubles, Tuck-Tuck. Because I promise that there is no universe in existence where Wash wouldn’t want to see you.” 

Tucker laughed and let Jason lead him over to bench in the garage, accepting a can of soda but not bothering to open it. “Well, I...I have feelings for Wash. Romantic feelings.”

Jason grinned widely, “I know. Mama Wash now owes me twenty bucks.”

Tucker turned and shot Jason his patented teenage glare, earning an amused face from the father. “Of fucking course you would bet on my love life.”

“Hey! Watch your fuckin’ language.”

“ _Anyway_ , we were...we were talking the other day. Just goofing off and he told me that he could beat me at fighting any day of the week. So, I called his bluff. And somehow, we ended up with me straddling him and holding down his hands and just so close and...and I tried to kiss him.”

Jason squealed, “ _Oh my god_ , my OTP is canon. Oh my god. Is this real life?”

“Stop being such a fanboy!” Tucker yelled back, blush coloring his cheeks as Jason wrapped his arms around Tucker’s shoulders.

“I’m so fucking happy! I fucking called it, too. Mama Wash thought that you guys wouldn’t get together until college. I’m so fucking proud of you! You made the first move--oh god, is that what I walked in on?”

“No!” Tucker blushed and denied. “Well, yes, but that’s not all. I...after that I freaked out and left and Wash just started avoiding me so, obviously, your OTP isn’t canon. Hate to sink your ship.”

Jason let out a long sigh and kept one arm comfortably wrapped around Tucker’s shoulders. “My dear boy, have you considered that maybe--just maybe--my killer intuition is right on mark? And that Wash thinks that you two got caught up in the moment and that you ran out because you don’t like him? And he’s been broken hearted enough to date that basic bitch on rebound. Who the hell doesn’t respect Beyoncé?”

-

"That bald guy? They're dating?" Tucker asked, heart stinging a little. As much as he wants to believe Jason, he can't help but worry he's wrong and that Wash didn't have feelings for him, and if he did, he's already moved on.

"You could call it that. But it's nothing real. I can tell that guy just wants into my little boy's pants and I can tell Wash is just trying to bury his feelings for you. For some reason, my son has always had a weird self esteem. Sometimes...I regret taking the job in Mother of Invention. He didn't really have many friends, and even when he did, they didn't do that much. I can't help but feel that things would have been better had we stayed." Jason sighed. Then he shook his head.

"Trust me, Tucker. He's had strong feelings for you for a long time. He's upstairs, you should go talk to him." Jason encouraged.

Tucker glanced at him, then glanced at the door that lead into the house. He took a deep breath and pulled away from Jason and walk towards the door. 

"I believe in you, son." Jason said simply, with an honest smile. But the sentence hit Tucker so deeply he had to pause for a moment. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded and headed through the door.

\--------

Wash laughed nervously as Maine took a seat in his computer chair, then yanked Wash down into his lap, immediately going in to lick and bite his neck. Wash set his hands on Maine's shoulders, not sure what else to do with them. It feels good. It feels nice. Why is his stomach churning? Probably because he wishes someone else would be kissing his neck right now.

He pushes those thoughts out of his head and leans to kiss Maine on the mouth, trying to fake as much enthusiasm as he can.   
Maine's broad hands squeezed his ass, and he jumped forward slightly in shock. He froze when he realized Maine was rock fucking hard, and grinding up against him. Red alerts started going off in his head. This was not what he wanted.

"Uh, I don't think I'm ready to do anything-" Wash announced, mouth dry. He felt to pull away, but Maine's hands moved down to clamp onto his hips, making it impossible to get up. 

"I can change that." Maine growled in response, and bit down hard on his neck. Hard enough to leave a mark, probably hard enough to break the skin. At the same time and ground his crotch up against Wash's trying to get him hard as well. Wash felt panic well up in his chest, and tried to push against Maine's shoulders. But he was built like a brick wall. Holy shit, was this really happening? Maybe he should scream for his dad. No, he was all the way down in the garage, he wouldn't hear him.

"I don't want to do this, let me go!" Wash demanded harder, trying to kick his foot away from its place tucked against the edge of the chair. Maine growled, and wrapped an arm around his torso and pulled him tight against him, causing him to fall forward so his head was against his shoulder. Maine's other hand reached to cup his ass and then reached down farther, stroking the seam of his jeans between the cheeks.

Wash struggled, trying to get a good enough grip on the back of the chair to push them over.

"Let go of me, asshole! I said no!" Now he was starting to get pissed. Pissed and terrified. Maine had the strength of ten guys. This wasn't shaping out to be a good evening.   
It was then the door opened, and his eyes shot up to meet Tucker's. 

God, yes. Salvation. But also-

Shit. 

-

“Tucker, Tucker, please--” Wash choked out, fighting back against Maine with more fervor than before. Tucker’s eyes went wide as understanding dawned on him. He pulled Wash away from Maine and positioned himself in between the two of them.

He punched Maine in the face, ignoring the pain that blossomed in his hand. Maine stood and covered his now bleeding nose.

“Okay, fags, calm down. I didn’t sign up for your Notebook-worthy drama!” Maine growled before abandoning them.

Wash covered his mouth with his hands and turned to face Tucker.

“Tucker--”

Tucker stared at his hand, numbly popping his middle knuckle into place. He turned to look at Wash and say something--anything--but came up short. Jason was wrong. As shitty as Maine was (when the fuck did that happen?) Wash was over him. If he ever even had feelings for him. God, how could Tucker have been so stupid?

He turned on his heel and left.

He didn’t want Wash’s hero-worship or pity. He didn’t deserve any of Wash’s gratefulness. He was an idiot.

-

Wash tried to stand up from where he'd landed on the floor. He swooned a little from a head rush. By the time he got to the door, Tucker was nowhere to be seen. He headed down the stairs and looked all over the house. Tucker was gone.

He headed into the garage. He was still shaking from what had happened, and he needed someone's comfort and understanding right now.

His father swung around in the chair, and smile on his face. A smile that immediately faded when he saw his son was. It turned into a frown when he saw the expression on his face and the bruise forming on his neck. 

"Son, is everything okay? What happened?" He asked in concern.

Wash moved forward and wrapped his arms around his father, wishing all the complicated things in the world would just work themselves out.

"I'm really really stupid." Wash muttered.

"No, you're not." Jason disagreed, embracing his son. He'd made sure his son knew it was okay to show emotion, to want to hug, to come to him and talk to him instead of hold everything in “like a man”, the way his own father had wanted. He wanted his son to trust him with his emotions.

"Maine-we were kissing and stuff, and he started getting really pushy and when I asked him to stop he just held me down and started touching me- and it's all because I ignored how uncomfortable he made me because I was being so fucking stupid and trying to swallow the way I felt about Tucker because it hurt so bad knowing he'd never like me back. And then Tucker was the one that stopped him...but they both left and Tucker left without saying a word and I really want to cry but I really don't want to at the same time and I just- he gave me the most hurt look and left and I don't understand why." Wash's voice was starting to crack a little. He pulled away and rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jason took a moment to process everything. He reached out and laid a hand on Wash's shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault he tried to hurt you. You weren't being stupid, you were just being human, trying to figure out your own emotions. I swear to god if that bald Beyoncé hating basic bitch comes within a five mile radius of you again I'll kill him. He was taking advantage of your pain and your hesitations. As for Tucker-" Jason sighed.

"He likes you, he does have romantic feelings for you. Strong ones, as a matter of fact."

Wash blinked up at his father. "Wha-what? How would you know that?" 

Jason smiled softly. "Because he came in here and told me so. Told me he thought you were the one that didn't like him. I can't imagine seeing you with someone else in any regards helped that. You know how he thinks so lowly of himself. Those damned parents of his...I'd adopt him, but then you wouldn't be able to get married."

Wash blushed. "Married? I- I-"

Jason just shook his head. "Just go talk to him, son. Work it out, get everything out in the open. Honesty is the best policy." 

Tucker liked him back? Really? The very idea made his heart do jumping jacks. Tucker had just left, he could probably catch him on the street.

Plan of action decided, Wash rushed towards the outer door.

"I'll be home soon, dad! Thanks for everything!" He called back, heart pounding as he ran outside. It was raining and it was starting to get dark and he didn't have a jacket, but he didn't care. 

He ran down the street for a while until he finally spotted a figure trudging through the rain. 

"Tucker!" Wash called out, running faster. 

Tucker froze, and debated whether to run away or turn around. His heart twisted in his chest. He went to take a step forward, to go, but then Wash's hand was on his shoulder. He couldn't run now, Wash would just chase him around town and they'd look stupid. Gritting his teeth, he turned around.

Wash was practically doubled over, wheezing in breathes and shivering, his hair and thin clothes plastered to his body. Tucker's eyes widened.

"Dude, what the fuck, you're gonna get sick!" He exclaimed, inane concern for his friend outweighing the hurt feelings and awkwardness temporarily. Wash just smiled at him as he straightened up.

"I'm the crazy one that likes the cold, remember?" He huffed.

Tucker pursed his lips and crossed his arms, walls crashing back down. He leaned back on his heels and glanced away. Wash's eyes were bright amidst the dark and he couldn't handle it.

"What do you want? You don't have to thank me. Anyone would have done the same." Tucker tried to sound nonchalant, tried to sound uninterested.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry." Wash replied, taking a step closer.

Tucker looked back at him, brow furrowing. "What? You shouldn't be sorry, that asshole-"

"Not sorry about that! No, I meant that I'm sorry for avoiding you. It wasn't the right thing to do." Wash shook his head.

Tucker's gut twisted, and he took a slight step backward, itching to get away so he could find some hole to go curl up in and die.

"No, I get it. It's okay, really. I would have done the same thing." He said, voice tight.

"Yeah, you're doing it right now. Trying to avoid me because you think I don't feel the same way about you that you feel about me." Wash said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Look, I really don't want to-" Tucker started to reply angrily, bile rising in his throat. He didn't want Wash's pity.

"It's funny, because when I came back, and I realized I still liked you like that, I thought about telling you, but I never could. And now I want to tell you and you won't let me." Wash raised an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips. "Stop being a self hating asshole so I can tell you I'm in love with you, already." He said, but he was smiling. 

-

Tucker felt his world stop as he froze.

"Wash, you're emotional right now. You don't know what you're feeling--" Tucker started, not wanting to get his hopes up and trap Wash into a relationship. 

Wash huffed and shook his head. He hated this, hated how lowly Tucker thought of himself, hated the way Tucker was being so defensive and hated how what the other teenager was saying would actually make sense if he didn't know that he'd been in love with Tucker since the beginning. 

He'd been in love with the way Tucker got so fucking focused on science that he could stare without worrying that Tucker would catch him. He'd been in love with the way Tucker would chew on pen caps and leave pencils in his dreads and sway his hips without thinking about it in a little happy dance whenever he made a breakthrough. Wash had been in love with Tucker for his whole life and now? Now he had actual tangible hope that Tucker could possibly feel the same.

So he took a chance. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Tucker’s to shut him up, bringing his hands up to bury them in Tucker’s dreads.

After a second of Tucker being frozen, Wash almost began to panic--almost began to think that maybe he and his father had been wrong, maybe Tucker didn’t--

And then he felt Tucker’s arms snake around to grab the back of his shirt and Tucker’s lips pressing against his hard and it was raining and the angle was a little bit uncomfortable and their teeth clashed against each other’s in desperation--

And it was fucking perfect.

Wash pulled away first, his eyes fluttering open to the new sight of Tucker with kiss-swollen lips, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape, and expression close to that of someone who was having a truly blissful dream. Wash decided that that expression on Tucker’s face was his favorite.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for my entire life. I’ve pined after you and stared at your lips while you were trying to teach me things and dreamt about how your dreads would feel between my fingers. Don’t tell me that this is a knee-jerk reaction to being emotional, Tucker. It’s not. There is nothing that I would rather feel than this complete love for you.”

“Wash,” Tucker opened his eyes and looked up at Wash, golden hair flattened by the rain and clinging to his forehead, blush covering his face, and freckles sticking out like stars in the night sky. “I...I thought that...”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I avoided you, that I tried to swallow down my pain with Maine, that I didn’t do this sooner. I love you.” Wash insisted, moving one hand from Tucker’s dreads to cradle his face.

“I love you, too,” Tucker grinned and surged up to press his lips against Wash’s, wrapping his arms around his neck and resting his chest against Wash’s sturdier one. He pulled away and rested his forehead on Wash’s shoulder. “But its still pouring and you’re still going to get sick if we don’t get you inside and out of those damn clothes.”

Wash blushed brilliantly, “Want to strip me down already?”

“Fuck you.”

“In due time, love,” Wash wrapped his arms around Tucker’s waist and relished in the warmth for a bit. “Until then, how’s dinner sound?”

“Sounds like Mama Wash owes Jason twenty bucks.”


	4. someone to believe in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker's birthday approaches and Wash worries over what this may mean for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Should I believe in the world, momma?  
> Should I give up and hide or should I stay and fight?  
> Should I believe in the rules, momma?  
> Tell me if I should run or learn to shoot a gun
> 
> I don't know what to believe, momma  
> Yeah, I'm down on my knees,  
> I'm begging please  
> Help me back on my feet, momma  
> 'Cause I need someone to believe, believe, believe in"  
> -"Tonight You're Perfect" by New Politics

Tucker ducked another one of Felix’s punches, countering it with a swift kick to his stomach. Felix coughed and doubled over, giving Tucker a chance to put some room between them. He didn’t, however take Locus into count. He backed straight into the solid wall that was Locus’ chest and froze. Fuck, he knew what was coming.

Locus’ arms came around his neck from the back, holding Tucker in place for a now-recovered Felix to use him as a punching bag. Tucker gritted his teeth and ignored the aching in his jaw and cut under his eye. He took his punishment with as little pained noise as he could before something--probably a squirrel--made a sound loud enough to scare them off.

Without Locus’ arms around his neck, Tucker fell onto his hands and knees like a sack of four. He breathed hard, wincing at a particularly sharp pain in his left side ribs, and slowly gathered enough strength to shakily stand up.

God, he was mess. A quick swipe of his hand under his nose confirmed that his nose was bleeding. The cut from the beginning of the fight seemed to have clotted a bit--if the gross sticky feeling on his cheek was of any merit--but the other nick from Felix’s pocket knife on his side hadn’t. He carefully guided himself to the bench on the side of the tennis court next to the school.

He wouldn’t be able to make it home by himself. Which meant that he’d have to call Wash.

Fuck.

The month of being with Wash was pure, unadulterated bliss. It was almost too great, which was why--of course--Tucker had to go and mess it all up. The last week had a hurricane of skipping class and acting out and baiting anyone who would spend more than two minutes listening to him into a fight. Wash had been exceptionally patient, but even he had his limits.

Tucker’s parents didn’t even fucking notice.

Tucker watched as his vision began to get blurry at that particular thought. He punched his hand into the pole of the fence he was leaning on and ignored the ache. He ignored all of the aches and pain. 

That’s what he’d been taught. How to ignore things. 

It was his birthday tomorrow. He was 100% sure they didn’t even know.

He took out his phone and shakily dialed Wash’s number, bringing the phone to his ear as he sat down on a nearby bench. He wrapped his own hoodie around himself to try and hide a bit, knowing that when Wash came and saw the shape that Tucker was in, he’d likely get pissed.

_”Tucker, school’s almost out. I’ve been calling you all day and you kept hanging up, what the fuck is going--”_

“I got into a fight.” Tucker rasped out, interrupting Wash the way he knew Wash hated. There was a pause as he could practically _hear_ Wash’s concern through the phone. “I’m fine, or rather I will be fine, I just. I don’t think I can make it home alone...I don’t think I want to.”

_”Where are you?”_

“The tennis court outside the school,” Tucker mumbled, gratefulness and guilt settling in his stomach harshly. “I’m sorry.”

Wash sighed. _”I’ll be right there.”_

Wash clicked end call, and ran a hand over his face. His parents had told him to be patient, to be there for Tucker. But he didn't know what to do, he couldn't stand by while Tucker went all self destructive on himself, but when he tried to talk to him he got cut off. Ignored. Ironically. God, he could kill those useless addicts of parents his boyfriend was stuck with. He deserved better.

It wasn't a long walk to the tennis courts, but it felt like it took a lifetime. 

"Dove?" Wash called out in concern when he spotted Tucker on the bench, arms wrapped around himself.

Tucker looked up at the voice, emotions all mixed up.

Wash rushed forward and let his backpack drop to the ground, and reached to push Tucker's hoodie back. He grimaced at the blood and the bruises and the cut.

"You deserve better than this." He said frankly, and leaned back so he could pull his t shirt off, and ripped a piece off. He'd gotten it at a garage sale and it was faded anyways, he wasn't all that attached to it. He didn't like wearing shirts, anyways. He felt more comfortable shirtless, always had. Which had lead to a few detention sentences that his father had laughed at.

He took a piece of the clothe and grabbed his water bottle from his backpack, poured some water on it and offered it to Tucker to clean the blood away. 

"Wash, what the fuck-"

"I didn't like that shirt anyways. Even if I did, you're more important." Wash replied, and started to clean the blood away himself. Tucker stared at him for a moment, shocked. Then he slowly reached up to take the piece of shirt himself, and wiped the blood away himself. He looked away from Wash, and down at his hands.

-

Wash used his now free hands to gently hold Tucker’s. He wanted to be patient, wanted to give Tucker space, but maybe...maybe he was wrong not to push. Tucker was always the type of person who wouldn’t freely admit that he had a problem and, frankly, Wash was worried.

He crouched down in front of Tucker and looked up at him. “Dove, we need to talk.”

Tucker flinched at the words, visibly crumbling in on himself. Fuck, this was it. Wash was going to finally break up with him and it’s all going to be his fault.

Wash sighed, “Tucker, what is going on? You’ve been skipping school and getting into pointless fights and being a dick. I know you, I know how kind and compassionate you are. This isn’t you. What’s...what’s going on?”

Tucker’s mouth fell open as he let himself look at Wash. Fuck, this wasn’t a break up, this was an intervention. How stupid could he be to think that someone as good as Wash would give up on him?   
“I’m sorry--” He choked out, looking down at their hands in embarrassment.

Wash shook his head and stood to sit next to Tucker on the bench, carefully pulling his boyfriend to his side to hold him. “Don’t be sorry, dove, just talk to me.”

There was a pause where Tucker tried to figure out how to word how he was feeling.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow,” Tucker mumbled into Wash’s skin.

“I know,” Wash prompted whenever Tucker didn’t continue.

“It’s my birthday and this happens every year and I don’t know _why_ I keep doing it. I feel like if I do something--anything just...something big enough the-they’ll notice. They’ll _see_ me and they’ll say my name and did you know that I haven’t heard them say my name in two years? I’ve never had a birthday party and they don’t even care enough to _hate_ me. I can’t--I wish that they would just hit me or yell at me or doing _something_ , show some kind of emotional response--” Tucker cut himself off with a sob. “It’s like...it’s like I’m not even there. They don’t want me. My own fucking parents--”

“Hey, hey,” Wash’s heart broke as he listened to Tucker. He tightened his arm around Tucker’s shoulders and pulled him closer, letting him bury his face into Wash’s neck. Wash felt the pained sobs rake through Tucker’s body. God, he hated this. Hated how much Tucker was hurt by the two people who were supposed to protect him and cherish him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Tucker’s head and rubbed Tucker’s back gently.

“What’s so wrong with me that no one wants me?”

“No,” Wash shook his head vehemently--broken heart twisting and shattering in his chest. “No, this is not your fault. I’m so sorry that your parents are the way they are, but they are not the end all be all. Nothing about you is wrong; nothing about you would warrant this kind of abuse. You don’t deserve this, this isn’t your fault--you’re a victim. Everything about you is loving and caring and you try so hard to show people kindness, to make people feel like they matter. You’re so strong and you care so much and it’s because you know what it feels like to be cast aside.

“You are not the problem, dove. And you’re not unwanted. I love you so much--so, so fucking much. And I’m not the only one. Mom and Dad would go to hell and back to protect you, they love you like you’re their own child. And Church and Grif and Sarge and all of the reds and blues. They’re psychotic, but this? All of those people? They’re the family that you went out and built. They’re the family that _chooses_ to care about you, _chooses_ to love you. Dove, you’re so good, so kind and just...just so good and you can’t let them take that. They are the problems. Nothing is wrong with you.”

Tucker sobbed even harder in Wash’s chest, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend without any thought towards his throbbing pains. Years of pent up anger and hurt and depression and hatred all came out as he sobbed into Wash’s neck. He let his boyfriend help carry the burden, the pain.

Wash pressed another sweet kiss to Tucker’s head. He used one hand to rub calming circles into Tucker’s back while the other ran his fingers through Tucker’s dreads.

His heart was twisting in his chest- he couldn't do anything about Tucker's shitty parents. All he could do was show him how much he was loved by everyone else.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you this, but...tomorrow, I was gonna invite you over to study, when you were really gonna walk in to a huge surprise party." Wash admitted.

"I made chocolate cake and I dyed the icing Aqua. My dad bought helium balloons and a piñata in the shape of a pickle off the internet and he filled it with cherry jolly ranchers because he knows those are your favorite." Wash continued.

Tucker drew in a sharp breath and pulled away, reaching to rub the tears away from his eyes. 

"What?"

Wash smiled up at him.  
"Yeah, babe. A party. Everyone's gonna be there. We've been planning it all month. Kaikaina really wanted to burst out of a cake half naked, but I told her no. It was supposed to be a surprise, so you have to pretend you're surprised, okay?" 

Tucker nodded. "I-I will. I just- I didn't expect this."

Wash frowned. "Everyone who loves you realized how your folks don't appreciate the wonderful son they've been blessed with, so we decided to take it into our own hands, to celebrate the beginning of your existence, and how wonderful you are. That's something you can always expect from us, from now on. The only reason they didn't throw you birthday parties before is because you never said anything, so they thought you didn't like birthdays. Let's face it, the Reds and Blues aren't the brightest set of light bulbs, but they sure burn hot once they get sparked. It’s gonna be great." 

Tucker's throat felt like it was closing up. It started to sink in, to really hit him, and he felt more tears stream down his face. However, these were tears of overwhelming joy. He clung to Wash's hands a little tighter, leaning forward to give him a desperate kiss. It was wet and there was probably a little snot running down his face, but Wash didn't seem to care. Wash just wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

And as much as Tucker wanted to hug Wash, the pressure on his bruised side caused him to flinch and hiss out between his teeth in pain. Wash immediately pulled away.

"Oh, yeah. Okay, I'm gonna call my dad, and we'll go home and get you patched up and get you some Aleve, okay?" Wash said, pulling out his phone. 

Tucker nodded, even though the thought of Jason seeing him like this made his stomach churn. He ignored the same in favor of focusing on the fact that _holy shit, he was having a birthday party. TOMMOROW!_  
He wondered who'd first came up with the idea. He had a feeling it had been Wash. The idea struck him, that if Wash had never left, he would have had a birthday party every year. He isn't quite sure how the revelation makes him feel, so he tucks it away. 

Wash calls his dad, who's on the scene almost instantly. They climb in the car, and he turns around in his seat the whole way with the most concerned expression on the planet as he looks over Tucker.

"What happened? Do we need to go to the hospital? Do I need to run someone over? I will, you know! Nobody touches my boys and gets away with it! I watch Bones, and CSI- I can make it look like an accident!" He said fervently.

Wash chuckled a little. "No, dad. Let's just get home so we can patch him up and get some good food in him. Mom's garlic bread is a remedy to cure all ills."

Jason nodded, before turning back to the steering wheel and starting to drive home. Wash turned back to Tucker, to find he was struggling not to cry. He gently wrapped an arm around him, and pressed a kiss to his hair.

Tucker leaned into the embrace as much as he could, a hand to his mouth. It was just so much- to be cared about, finally. To be cared about so intensely. Jason had said his _boys_. He'd never been anyone's boy. 

-

Once they got to the house, Jason ushered them into the bathroom where he got out the first aid kit. “Okay, this bathroom is not big enough for three people. One of us is gonna have to leave.”

Both teenagers looked up at him, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I feel more comfortable shirtless around my boyfriend rather than his father.”

Jason paused and nodded. “Okay, point. But no sex, okay? Tucker is fragile.”

Wash blushed and waited for his dad to leave before gesturing at Tucker to take off his shirt. Tucker sighed and shrugged out of his hoodie before carefully pulling off his shirt, making a face at the sound it made whenever the blood that had dried onto the fabric was disturbed.

Wash grabbed a clean washcloth from the cabinet across from the counter. “Get up on the counter and I’ll wash off a bit of the blood and dirt.”

Tucker nodded wordlessly, still reeling from all of the emotions from today. He’d swear that having an emotional break down took up just as much energy as running a fucking marathon. He hopped up onto the pearly white counter and watched Wash as he wet down the cloth.

“You know, if you told me that you like playing doctor, I could’ve just faked some injuries,” Tucker quipped.

Wash blushed and shook his head as used the wet rag to clean Tucker’s face and chest. “Any back injuries?”

Tucker leaned to either side and forward, testing the muscles in his back. “No, I don’t think so. Felix and Locus like to watch your reaction.”

“So Felix and Locus did this to you?” Wash practically growled.

“I baited them.”

“What they do to you every day counts as baiting,” Wash pointed out as he moved on to some alcohol wipes. “Brace yourself, this is gonna sting. I’m just saying that you have a few offensive cuts on your knuckles, but most of this is either defensive or just you taking a beating.”

Tucker sighed, “I was _looking_ for a fight.”

Wash roughly pushed the alcohol wipe against the cut on Tucker’s side, earning a loud pained cry. “A _knife_ fight?”

Tucker grinded his teeth together, the wipe on the cut seeming more painful than actually getting the cut. “I didn’t think he was gonna whip out a knife, no, but still--”

“Tucker,” Wash cut him off, looking up at him searchingly. “I know what you were trying to do, I’m just pissed that anyone thought that they could take your emotional state as an all access pass to hurting you. I love you, and I want to keep you safe and in one piece.”

Tucker bit down on his bottom lip and stared down at Wash. “I know. I love you, too, I just...”

Wash trashed the bloodied wipe and looked up at Tucker.

Tucker blew out a long breath, “After this, I require cuddles with my sweetums and movies.”

Wash grinned at Tucker and kissed him gently. “Sounds good, dove.”

\------

Tucker's steps seemed heavy as he headed up the pathway. He was doing his best to keep calm, to pretend to be unsuspecting of what was waiting for him behind the door. It still didn't feel real.

Wash was practically vibrating with excitement. He reached for the door handle, pressed a kiss to Tucker's temple, and pulled it open.

"SURPRISE!" Screeched everyone inside the living room. Tucker jumped back even though he'd been expecting it. Then he walked inside, and stared at everyone, and looked all around. All his friends where here, along with Wash's parents. There were streamers and balloons and decorative paper plates next to a big cake, which he knew Wash had made for him. Everyone was smiling at him. 

"Oh my god, guys. You got me good, I-" Tucker laughed happily, and felt emotional tears prick his eyes again. This was just so perfect.

Everyone he loved poured forward, hugging him, and Jason gestured to a pile of presents.

And for the first time, he felt as if everything might be alright.


	5. whiplash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Cause somebody stole  
> My car radio  
> And now I just sit in silence
> 
> Sometimes quiet is violent"  
> \- Car Radio, Twenty One Pilots

A loud bang from somewhere in his house alerts Tucker to stand up. Before he can even think of what to do next, however, Church rips open his door. He's bent over wheezing, and he's pale as fuck and his eyes are dark. Carolina is standing behind him in the hallway, face like a statue.

"Guys, what the fuck? Church, dude, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, man!" Tucker exclaims in alarm.

"Wash's parents were in a car crash!" Church exclaims.

Tucker feels his blood run cold.

" _What?_ Are they okay? Is Wash okay?" Tucker stammers.

Church looks pained. Which is terrifying, because Church never gives a fuck.

"Thena is dead. Wash is with his dad at the hospital- he's in bad shape, that's all I know. It was a drunk driver or some shit. I got here as fast as I could."

Tucker just stands there, information washing over him like a tidal wave. Mama Wash is dead? No. No, it just- it can't be. She was good. She can't be dead. She can't. Pain and worry and fear blossom in his stomach. If Jason dies he doesn't know what he'll do- he was the only adult who believed in him, he was like the father he always wanted-

A single thought snaps him out of it. _Wash._

He rushed past Church and Carolina, and ripped his dad's keys off the wall. He's never stolen the car before. For once, he doesn't care if they notice. 

\----

The pain is distant. The sounds of the hospital are distant, everything seems to be happening far away, buffered by this looming darkness that threatens to swallow him whole.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to be in a coma. It's not like he can ask his dad. He could always ask his father anything. But now he's in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and he looks so _small_. His father was always one of the largest presences in his life. Now he's almost gone. Whereas his mom- oh god. Oh god. This had to be a dream. They're good people. Why do bad things happen to good people? It didn't make sense.

He hears footsteps rushing towards him, and he hears Tucker's voice, and he looks up slowly. 

Wash has little cuts everywhere, and his head is bruised. His eyes are red and puffy from crying.

"Hi." He rasps out, voice hoarse from screaming when he had tried to pull his mother out of the car. His pinky's in a cast, he broke it slamming forward in the seat. None of it really hurts. 

-

Tucker felt his entire world crumbling apart, seeing Jason in the tiny hospital bed. He let his eyes look over to Wash and felt what was left of his heart shatter. The nurse that had led him to the room gave him an orange blanket to put over Wash for shock victims.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure who needed it more. Probably the person who was now legally an orphan.

“Hey, love.” He breathed out and sat down next to Wash on the trying too hard to be comfortable couch in Jason’s room. Tucker gently wrapped the blanket around his boyfriend and pulled Wash to lean on him. “Do you wanna talk?”

Wash shook his head and melted against Tucker, leeching off his strength. He curled into Tucker’s side and settled more comfortably in the scratchy blanket.

“It’s for dealing with shock, apparently,” Tucker murmured, trying to keep open a dialogue for when Wash needed to talk--to let it all out. “Because that bright of a color _helps_ shock victims while putting anyone else who sees it in shock.”

Wash huffed and looked up at Tucker, tears in his eyes. “They said that my mom died.”

Tucker nodded and squeezed his arm tighter around Wash. “Yeah.”

“They don’t know when... _when_ my dad will wake up,” Wash’s face crumbled as he buried it into the crook of Tucker’s neck. Tucker rearranged them a bit, pulling Wash’ into his lap and stretching his legs out over the couch. He rubbed Wash’s back as the tears flowed. “And somehow- somehow I’m just _fine_.”

“Wash, don’t do that,” Tucker whispered into his ear, bringing one hand up to gently play with Wash’s blonde hair. He wondered if Wash’s had gotten glass in it and had to wash it out here and that was why instead of smelling like sweat or cherries, it smelt like disinfectant. “Don’t punish yourself for this.”

“They were _good_ people, Tucker.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. But you’re good, too. So good. There is no easy outcome here, love. There is no easy way to divide up who dies and who lives whenever everybody in that car was good. I know you’re hurting, but please don’t hurt about not being hurt worse.” Tucker gently instructed. “I know that you have just lost a lot. I know that that’s an understatement, but, hun, you can’t blame yourself.”

“Who _can_ I blame!?” Wash yelled and pulled away to look at Tucker angrily. He had tears running down his cut up face, he was pale from shock and bleeding, and his eyes were puffy.

But he was so goddamn _alive_ that Tucker could’ve held a fucking party for him.

“You should blame the drunk driver who hit you,” Tucker told him evenly, trying to stay calm. He’d already had a mini-breakdown in the car. Now he needed to stay strong for Wash.

“Yeah? That fucking idiot deserves every single goddamn injury his oversized, environment killing truck dished out. I swear to god, if I ever see him or if he fucking tries to apolo--”

“Wash, he died on impact,” Tucker gently cupped Wash’s cheek. “I know that you’re angry, but there is no bad guy to fight. You can’t punch your way out of this.”

Wash stared down at Tucker as silently tears fell down his face. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Tucker whispered, pulling Wash back to his chest. Wash curled his fists into Tucker’s shirt and sobbed.

“I keep hoping that it’s some kind of dream and I’ll wake up tomorrow and they’ll be bickering and teasing me about you. I keep hoping that everything will just go back to normal. Why can’t it just go back to normal?” Wash sobbed. Tucker felt his heart twist in his chest, but kept up his gentle ministrations. 

He stayed silent because he didn’t know if he should admit that he was hoping for the same thing.

\-----

"Your uncle is loved by everybody in town, as you probably know. I'm sure you'll be very happy with him, until your father wakes up. Now, grief is very hard on everyone. In different ways. But I expect you'll be able to help each other." Maria, his smiling social worker, said. She patted his shoulder kindly and handed him a piece of paper. 

"In case you lose my contact in your phone, you can put this in your wallet or something. Call me in you need anything. I'll be checking in on you at the end of the week." She said. Wash nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket. He looked out the window of her car, up at his uncle and his uncle's girlfriend. They were standing on the porch waiting for him, smiling. He wondered if he should smile back. He really didn't feel like it.

He pushed open the car door, and climbed out. He pulled his bags out of the backseat and set them down on the curve, then waved to Maria as she pulled away. 

When he turned around, Kaleb and his girlfriend where crossing the lawn towards him.

"Hello, David. It's been a while. I hope I can help you with everything you need until Jason comes back. This is my girl, Claire." His uncle smiled at him, and reached to take some of his bags. Claire reached out a hand for him to shake. She was beautiful, with soft, long naturally blonde hair up in a messy bun and a flowy casual dress. She didn't need makeup to look like a supermodel, and her bright soul shined through her eyes. 

"I made some dinner, if you're hungry." She said as he shook her hand. They were surprisingly strong and callused, like she wasn't afraid to do hard work. He smiled back at her, because she had the kind of smile that made you want to smile too.

"I'm starving, thank you." He replied, and stooped to grab the last of his bags.

"I'll do my best to make you as happy as you can be. This is a hard time for all of us, but you especially. Anything you need, I'll give, alright?" His uncle said sincerely. He nodded as they headed inside.

His uncle, like his father, had always been one of the most genuinely nice guys you could find. He wondered if it ran in the family.


	6. i don't wanna be here anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS THE REAL CHAPTER SIX**  
> sorry, babes, I accidentally posted chapter 7 before 6 _oops_
> 
> so, this is a bit of explaining about how the situation came into reality
> 
> very sorry, loves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No longer recognize the place that I call home  
> No longer recognize this face as my own  
> Somewhere, this fate, I lost control
> 
> We backed down  
> We took no for answers far too long  
> We felt those walls close around...
> 
> I don’t want to be here anymore   
> I know there’s nothing left worth staying for  
> Your paradise is something I’ve endured  
> See I don’t think I can fight this anymore   
> I’m listening with one foot out the door  
> And something has to die to be reborn  
> I don’t want to be here anymore."
> 
> -"I Don't Wanna Be Here Anymore" by Rise Against

_”To be fair,”_ Tucker’s voice served to make even Wash’s depressed mood lift. _”I never really tried Pop-Tarts, I just assume that a toaster pastry wouldn’t taste good.”_

“You know what they same about assuming,” Wash laughed lightly. He rolled over on his bed to lay on his back and close his eyes. He pretended for a second that his uncle would let him and Tucker be in the same room to cuddle. It’d been a week since the crash and his mother’s funeral was tomorrow.

So, naturally, Tucker had called him as soon as the grief began to overcome him.

_”I can’t take you seriously whenever you use the ‘ass out out of you and me’ thing. I learned that in third grade.”_

“I know you are, but what am I?” Wash threw back at him, earning a laugh.

_“You, my love, are a small queer with nothing better to do than talk to your boyfriend all day.”_

Wash’s smile softened, “I would rather be no one else. How was school today? Did anyone ask about me?”

_”Nah, for once everyone is cutting someone some slack instead of just...you know...cutting them.”_

“You have one special perception of our school.”

 _“I was_ stabbed _!”_

“It was _Grif_ and you tried to steal his _food_. Your theory has to take stupidity into account.”

_”Did you just call me stupid? Abuse, I say!”_

“Drama queen.”

_“Nerd.”_

“I love you.”

_”I love you, too. How you doing?”_

Wash pursed his lips. “I think I’m better. You’re helping. I also think there’s a bit of denial in there somewhere.”

_”You astound me, David Washington.”_

“You flatterer, you.” Wash grinned before jumping out of his skin at the sound of something crashing.

_”Are you okay!? What happened?”_

“I’m fine, there was a crash downstairs. I’m gonna go check it out. I love you, bye.” Wash breathed out, earning a quiet ‘I love you’ in return before venturing downstairs.

Wash came down to find pieces of a shattered red vase littering the floor of the entry hall. One of Claire's vases for her flowers. His uncle was leaning against the wall, muttering to himself. The stench of liquor and human piss hit him full force. Claire was nowhere to be seen. He hesitatingly stepped down the last step.

"Kaleb?"

His uncle's head snapped up, his eyes were bloodshot.   
"Look what you fucking did. I hope you clean that up before Claire gets home." He snarled at Wash. Wash stared at him in shock. His uncle had never used that tone with him. He'd never seen the man like this.

"I didn't do anything!" He protested. Then, suddenly, his uncle rushed at him, and backhanded him across the face. He cried out in shock and pain and moved back against the wall, staring up at his uncle with eyes starting to fill with tears. He's hit him. Hard, hard enough to bruise. His uncle just huffed and stumbled away down the hall. 

Wash just stood there, shocked. 

\------

The next morning, he woke up with a sore face and apprehensive heart. He walks down the stairs slowly, looking around. The glass is gone.

He hears laughter coming from the kitchen, so he heads in. Claire was making food that smelled amazing, and was smiling at his uncle. His uncle was doubled over a glass of alka seltzer, but he was smiling. 

"Good morning, David. Sleep well?" His uncle asked tiredly. Wash didn't know how to feel about this. Maybe he'd dreamed it? 

But he'd seen the bruise in the mirror. It had happened. Maybe his uncle had been so drunk he didn't remember.

"Mostly. Smells good, Claire. Did...you sleep well?" Wash asked, hesitantly sitting down next to his uncle. It wasn't that dark do a bruise. It would fade in a day. He'd been drunk, and he didn't even seem to remember. Claire didn't even seem to notice.

He should just...let it go. It was probably just a one time thing. 

\--------

Wash stumbled back in pain when his uncle punched him in the gut. He wheezed a little, then his head snapped up to look at Kaleb in shock. His uncle was sober- this didn't make sense. He'd told everyone the bruise on his face a few days again had been an accident. Apparently he'd been wrong.

"I've done nothing but do good by you, put a roof over your head! You will not talk back to me!" He snarled.

"You can't hit me!" Wash exclaimed. Kaleb shoved him down and smacked him again. Wash struggled against him, trying to get back up of the floor.

"I do what I want. Remember that." Kaleb hissed.

Claire ran forward and tugged on his shoulders.  
"Let him go, you're not being yourself!" She cried out. He spun around and smacked her, and she stumbled back. Wash shot up, and ran for the door. He left the sounds of Claire and Kaleb arguing behind him as he ran into the street, and pulled out his phone. Fuck this, he wasn't going to let this happen. He had enough to deal with. 

_”Hello, Maria Sanchez.”_

“Maria, listen,” Wash panted as he kept running away from that house. He turned the corner and ran towards...well, he wasn’t sure. Just away. “My uncle just went crazy. He started hitting me and, and Claire stepped in but then he started beating her and--”

_”David? No, David, sweetie, Kaleb is such a nice guy. He wouldn’t hit anyone.”_

“Are you even fucking _listening_ to me?” Wash screamed, desperation lacing his voice.

_”I’m sure it was just a nightmare or something. Sometimes grief can make people desperate for attention. No need to get worked up. Now, David, if you don’t mind, I have some work to do.”_

Wash huffed angrily at the dial tone. What the actual fuck? He’s such a _nice_ guy? Tell that to the bruise on his face. He slowed down to catch his breath and looked around him. He’d ran four streets over, probably far enough away that Kaleb wouldn’t find him if he went looking but...

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Maria was supposed to take care of him and protect him from shit like this. Now where was he supposed to go? Who could he turn to that would actually believe him?

\------

Tucker hand felt warm and comforting inside of Wash’s, his head leaning against Wash’s shoulder and seeming to fit perfectly. They were at the park in Tucker’s neighborhood, sitting on one the the turtles together.

These days, Tucker was the only thing that could clear his mind from the abuse. He couldn’t even sleep--the walls in that house were thin.

He could hear every single one of Claire’s pained screams.

Tucker brought him out of that line of thinking by tugging their joined hands to his chest. Wash looked over curiously, watching Tucker begin to play with his fingers. He’d learned in the very beginning of their relationship that Tucker liked being affectionate, always holding Wash’s hand or leaning against him. He’d also learned that whenever Tucker was unsure of himself, he’d play with Wash’s fingers.

“Something wrong, dove?” Wash asked cautiously, unsure of how much of his depression Tucker had picked up on.

“See, that’s what I want to ask you,” Tucker started, bringing the fingers up to gently kiss each one. “It’s okay not to be okay, but you’ve been different. You don’t even take off your shirt anymore. I just...I want to know if there’s anything else going on with you. I’m worried.”

Wash gaped at Tucker, tears blurring his vision. Tucker was worried. Of course Tucker was worried. Every little part of Tucker had always been in sync with Wash--he’d never once been able to hide something from him.

But telling Tucker would also make it real.

Wash pulled their hands to his chest to make Tucker look at him. He had to tell someone about this--and he knew Tucker would believe him. He knew Tucker would take his fear seriously and protect him, but Tucker was as flesh and blood as Wash was and if Tucker called out Kaleb and Kaleb won...

There was no telling what Kaleb would do to him.

“Sweetums, you don’t have to be afraid of telling me things.” Tucker continued gently whenever Wash didn’t answer him. “If its really so bad that you think you can’t tell me, you need to tell me. You’ve already been hurt so badly, you shouldn’t carry things by yourself anymore. That’s why I’m here.”

Wash felt like he was going to cry. He opened his mouth and prepared himself to tell Tucker everything--

And then his phone went off. He used his free hand to fish it out of his pocket and went pale whenever he saw that it was his uncle.

Kaleb would be _pissed_ if he didn’t answer, so Wash gave Tucker an apologetic look and hopped off of the turtle. He swallowed thickly and answered the phone, knowing that his hour of refuge from hell was up.

 _"Where the fuck are you? I've been getting calls from the school for days!"_ Kaleb snarled into the phone.

 _"I'll be home soon, I'm sorry."_ He said, fear working his way into his heart. He hung up his phone and smiled awkwardly at Tucker.

"Gotta go face the music. I'll talk to you later, love." Wash said, and pecked Tucker on the lips. 

When he got home, he felt like throwing up. He knew this had been a bad idea. But it was the only way he could maintain some dignity, and not be completely beaten into submission. It's strange, how his uncle changed so quickly from a _nice guy_ to an abusive, terrifying asshole.

The minute he walks in the door, he gets a hand to the face. It strikes him too quick for him to duck so he goes sprawling from the force.

"I-" He goes to defend himself as he tries to push himself up, but a boot to the stomach makes him fall down again with a cry. 

"You're going to regret that." His uncle growled, and grabbed him by the arm and started to literally drag him. He tugged and kicked and tried to get up, but Kaleb moved too fast and was too strong. 

"Let me go!" He screeched, feeling like his arm was being ripped out of its socket. He'd just gotten the bandage off his hand.

"Kal, leave him be! Haven't you hurt him enough!" Claire cried out, rushing out of her room after them.

"Say another word and I'll hurt him worse." Kaleb growled, ripping open the door of the basement. Then he hefted Wash up by his torso and carried him half way down the stairs. He threw him down the last half. Wash tucked his head in his arms. Each roll slammed him into a step, and he knew he'd be bruised as all hell. Once he finally hit the paved floor of the basement he groaned and tried to push himself up onto his hands, only for his uncle to bury his hand in Wash's hair and start to drag him. Wash screamed out and scrambled to keep up, so his hair wouldn't get ripped out. That would be hard to hide. 

His uncle threw him down near the workbench, and pulled his hands up. Before he could do anything, his uncle was s then.

"What are you doing?" Wash asked in fear, struggling to try and pull his wrists apart. With no answer, he was yanked up, and the zip ties where hooked on a metal hook hanging from a beam. His shoulders ached as he was suspended, with his knees bent and a few centimeters above the floor. 

"Kaleb, if you kill him, you'll go to jail!" Claire called desperately from her place on the stairs, trying to do anything to stop him. The mention of dying only made Wash's panic worse. 

Kaleb didn't answer. He picked up some scissors and cut Wash's shirt away. As the fabric left him he felt an instinctive relief. He missed not having a shirt on. With all these bruises, it had been a week and a half until he'd been able to take his shirt off.

"What are you doing?" Wash called again, trying to crane his head back, but he couldn't see either of them. Kaleb forced duct tape over his mouth, and he made muffled sounds of protest. He could barely breathe already. Oh god, oh god. This couldn't be good. 

He heard a sound he didn't recognize. Something like a box opening. He heard Claire gasp, and come rushing all the way down the stairs.

"Kaleb, please, please don't do this. Don't become your father! Please!" She begged. Wash didn't know what that meant, but Kaleb must have done something because she fell silent. He opened his mouth to try and pull at the duct tape, when he heard a sharp sound and pain exploded across his back. 

His whole body jerked in agony, and he screamed through the duct tape. It happened again and again and again. Claire started to sob and say something, but he couldn't hear her through the ringing in his ears. He felt something warm trickling down his back. It hurt so bad, he couldn't even scream anymore. 

"One more might kill him, Kal!" Claire cried out. There was silence, then a clatter as if something had been dropped.

"Either of you says a word to anyone or goes to a hospital and I'll fucking kill both of you." Kaleb growled, then he was gone up the stairs. Claire started to sob harder, and rushed to cut him down. He fell back into her arms, which hurt a lot. She let him down on the floor gently, rolling him on his stomach. She seemed to take a deep breathe.

"I'm gonna go get some stuff to fix you up, alright? I'll be right back, stay awake!" She demanded. Then she was gone up the stairs as well.

Wash slowly opened an eye. Across from him, tossed against the wall, was a black leather whip with blood dripping off of it. 

\-----

Wash hissed out in pain whenever the alcohol swab Claire was using cleaned one of the makeshift stitches that Wash had pulled getting up that morning.

It had been half a week since his uncle had gone crazy and somehow Claire had been protecting him. They had bonded a bit, Claire using her nursing training and two years of medical school to keep Wash alive and infection free while Wash would brush and braid her hair whenever Kaleb wasn’t there to keep it off of her bruised shoulders.

“How has no one noticed anything?” She hissed out angrily as she used a clean alcohol wipe the sterilize and fish hook and tie a thread around it--the extent of any medical equipment they have. That Kaleb allowed them to have.

“My teacher asked...about why I haven’t been to school,” Wash muttered, relishing in the way his back started going numb due to the pain. He could still, however, feel the way Claire tensed behind him. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t fucking get to. She cut me off telling me about how fucking _nice_ Kaleb is. I really...I can’t _tell_ anyone.”

Claire sighed and finished the stitches in silence. “You don’t deserve this.”

“He _deserves_ ,” Kaleb spat out as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. “Whatever the fuck I _want_ to do to him. That stupid fuck killed my sister in law and put my no good brother in a fucking coma. Now he acts like I’m some fucking murderer whenever I have to turn the machines off.”

“Kal, please,” Claire started. She was cut off by the sound of a beer bottle shattering on the counter.

“Shut up, Claire. Obviously, this boy need to be put in his fucking place!” Kaleb growled. He grabbed Wash--who was frozen in fear--by the back of his neck and slammed his chest against the wall. He leaned forward to whisper into Wash’s ear. “It’s time you realize that all you’re allowed to take is whatever I fucking decide.”

“No!” Wash screamed, finally coming back to himself to start writhing against Kaleb. The adrenaline was numbing his pain enough for him to try to fight back. Fight back in vain. Kaleb roughly pulled down Wash’s jeans, ignoring his protests.

“Kal, no!” Claire screamed. She panicked and grabbed Kaleb’s shoulder, pulling him back to face her. She had to distract him, make him re-target and focus on her instead. “You’re gonna prove that you’re so powerful by raping a defenseless kid? Wow, I didn’t know you were such a weak fag.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood whenever Kaleb pulled away from Wash and smacked her. She mentally asked God for forgiveness for what she was going to make Kaleb do next.

“You really wanna prove how much of a man you are by shoving your dick into someone’s ass? Sounds more like proving how fucking gay you are. You sure you even want me here anymore or should I go get some hunky man? Or are you just so weak that you wouldn’t be able to smack _him_ around?”

Kaleb yelled angrily and tackled Claire to the ground, knocking over and shattering the lamp next to the couch in the process. He tore off Claire’s shirt and held her down by her neck, hard enough to control if she breathed or not, but loose enough to make sure that she stayed conscious through the whole process.

“You wanna know who’s a _man_ , Claire?” He growled. 

“Wash, run!” Claire screamed out, snapping Wash from his shock. He scrambled up to his room and collapsed in a pile of tears. He could hear every single hit, every single grunt of pain, every single moan of psychotic pleasure, every single sob, scream, cry for help. He could hear the way Claire’s voice went hoarse from the screams.

He could hear the way Kaleb laughed whenever he heard her stop fighting.

He shakily pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his pictures, stopping at the picture that Jason had taken of Wash, Thena, and Tucker at Tucker’s birthday party.

God, what would his mom think of him now? Hiding away in a dark room while one of the only people who still--literally--had his back was tortured for protecting him.

He needed to tell someone. He needed to end this.

If not for his own sake, for Claire’s.


	7. the art of how we bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation with Washington's uncle comes to a terrifying climax.
> 
> **ORIGINALLY POSTED AS THE SIXTH CHAPTER--IF THIS SEEMS FAMILIAR, PLEASE GO BACK AND READ THE NEW SIXTH CHAPTER. THERE WAS A MINOR MIX-UP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blinded by faith  
> I couldn't hear  
> All the whispers  
> The warning's so clear
> 
> I see the angels  
> I'll lead them to your door  
> There is no escape now  
> Now mercy no more
> 
> No remorse 'cause I still remember  
> The smile when you tore me apart
> 
> \- Angels by Within Tempation

Pain was everywhere, nowadays. Tucker, however, was a shining beacon of peace. Always has been. As much as he wants to tell him, wants to be told he doesn't deserve it and wants to be told it'll be okay- he doesn't want to ruin that illusion of light. It's all he's got left.

"Are you okay?" Tucker asked. Wash blinked at him.

"What?"

Tucker raised an eyebrow from where he was laying on his bed.  
"You've been staring at me for like twenty minutes in deep thought. Is something on your mind? And why are you wearing a sweater, it's 80 degrees outside."

"I wasn't looking at you that long, don't exaggerate." Wash replied.

Tucker propped himself up on his elbow. "Don't avoid my questions." 

Wash looked down at his hands, barely poking out of the oversized green sweater. It was his father's.

"My uncle is a jerk." He decided to start, try and test the waters. He held his breath, and waited for it. Waited for the "No, you must be wrong". At the very least, he waited for "Oh, really? But he's such a _nice guy_!" 

Instead, Tucker just nodded. "That must suck."

His head whipped up. Tucker moved back a little bit.  
"Did I say something wrong?"

Wash shook his head. "No, I just didn't expect you to believe me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Tucker asked in surprise. 

Wash looked down at his hands and felt tears well up in his eyes.  
"Nobody else did. And he's not just a jerk, he-" Wash didn’t know how to say it. So instead, he lifted up his sleeves to show his wrists. They were bruises all over from fingers, and deeper, harsher bruises in a circle on each from those zip ties. It hurt to bend them. But then again, everything hurt. He held his breath and waited for Tucker's reaction.

Tucker hissed in a breath and gently held Wash’s wrist closer, looking up at his boyfriend’s face to make sure he wasn’t hurting them. He felt cold anger and concern flowing through him in waves.

“Love, I...we need to go to the police,” Tucker told Wash firmly, swallowing to try and keep the panic down.

“I can’t--” Wash shook his head, going to tug his wrist away from Tucker. He let out a sigh through his nose whenever the action lead to a dull ache in his wrist. Tucker shook his head and sighed, letting go of Wash’s wrist to turn and dig through his bag. He pulled out his phone first.

“I’m going to take a picture of the bruises next to a ruler, and a closer one on the rings. What are those--zip ties?” Tucker asked, horrified as he dug out the ruler. Wash nodded numbly, emotions rumbling up in his chest and making it ache.

He didn’t know what he was expecting--he knew that Tucker would believe him and be concerned. But he didn’t expect the horror and anger and _calmness_ that really...felt very comforting.

Tucker instructed Wash to hold up the rule while he took two pictures of his arms--one with flash and one without before repeating the process with the ring marks.

“I have this spray stuff that helps with bruising but it looks like there are some cuts where the zip ties were, so it might sting, but--”

“How are you so calm?” Wash interrupted Tucker.

“Because I do not have the luxury of freaking out until I know that you’re safe!” Tucker looked up at Wash and let him see the desperation and panic on his face for a second before going back to what he was doing. “I’ll help you manage with the bruising, and afterward we will call the police. Your uncle’s girlfriend--Claire--does she hurt you, too?”

“No,” Wash shook his head, tears blurring his vision. “No, she doesn’t. She tries to help and tries to protect and she-she saved me from him trying-trying to rape me and he raped her and I could _hear_ it, Tucker--”

Tucker pulled Wash into a gentle hug.

“I want it to stop,” Wash sobbed into Tucker’s shoulder. “I want to protect her the way she protected me.”

“We’ll take care of her,” Tucker decided. “She works at the hospital, right? I’ll call Carolina and Texas and North and York and get them down there before we call the police to keep her there and we’ll tell the police everything. I am not letting you get hurt anymore.”

Wash sniffed a bit, and pulled away. His back hurt everytime he moved but he didn't care.

"She didn't go to work, she was hurt too badly. She's at the house, alone. We should go get her and then- and then we can go to the police. If you're both with me...I can do it." Wash said, breathing deep. 

"What about your uncle?" Tucker asked in concern.

"He won't be at the house for a while. We can make it if we go now." Wash replied. Tucker stood up.

"Let's go. I'll steal my dad's car again." Tucker announced. Wash stood and followed Tucker. He was nervous, but if he had Tucker, he could do this. 

\---

He hated the sight of this house. His uncle's car wasn't in the driveway, at least. He pushed open the door, Tucker in tow behind him.

"Claire?" He called. There's a soft response from down the hall, so that's where they went.

Claire was lying in bed, her eye black, her lip split. She smiled with a tired light, although, when she saw Wash. Washington's heart twisted in his chest.

"We're gonna go to the police, Claire. We have to. And you have to come with us." Wash decided to deadpan as he knelt next to her bedside. Tucker stayed at the doorway.

"No, no, no...he'll kill us..." Claire whispered, pale.

"Not if we stick together and get there before he can get us. Please, we deserve better. You need to go to the hospital." Wash begged her. Claire's eyes filled with tears.

"Okay, I'll go-"

"Go _where?_ " Kaleb's voice demanded from the doorway on the other side of the room, the one nearest the bed. Wash flinched back and Claire seemed to get smaller in the bed. The sight of her so beaten and small brought back the memories of last night. Those enmities gave Wash the strength to stand up and put himself between Claire and Kaleb.

"You aren't going to hurt her anymore." Wash decided sternly. Kaleb's face was dark as he stalked forward and wrapped a hand around Wah's neck. He hadn't noticed Tucker in the doorway yet. 

"I will do as I wish. Didn't you learn the message last time!" Kaleb shouted, and raised a hand to hit him. Before he could, however, Tucker was there. He kicked Kaleb in the crotch and slugged him in the face, sending him stumbling back through the doorway. Then he slammed the doorway in his face. Tucker spun around to face them.

"We have to go, now!" He exclaimed. Wash turned towards Claire and ripped the blankets off her, helping her up. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he helped her towards the door. He felt the stress rip a few stitches, but he didn't care.

They headed outside and struggled down the steps. Wash's heart was pounding- he could hear Kaleb pounding through the house after them. 

Tucker opened the back seat, and helped Wash get Claire in. Wash flinched when he heard the door slam open, and Kaleb yelling. He raced around the the passenger side and threw himself in. Tucker did the same, and slammed the ignition. They pulled out just as Kaleb came running down the driveway, and then they were on the road, racing away from him. 

"We need to go to the hospital first." Claire said from the backseat. "I'm banged up pretty bad and I don't know how bad, and they'll need to do a rape kit- and Wash tore his stitches, he's bleeding again." 

Wash knew she was right, he could feel the blood starting to soak the back of the thin sweater. Tucker spared a glance his way.

"Stitches?"

Wash kept staring ahead at the road, and didn't say anything. He couldn't, not right now. He needed to gather his strength.

\------

“He’s tired and hurt,” Tucker grumbled from him position in an uncomfortable chair next to Wash’s hospital bed. Wash squeezed Tucker’s hands and gave him a tired smile.

“It’s okay.”

The two detectives gave them apologetic faces before the Latina stepped forward and locked eyes with Wash. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Washington, but I’ll--”

“David or Wash, please. Mr. Washington is my dad.”

Tucker and detective both looked down at the mention of Wash’s dad--still in a coma. 

“David,” She restarted with a kind smile. “I’ll need to ask you some questions about when the abuse started and how long it lasted just to make sure that your timeline matches up with Ms. Keller.”

Wash nodded, “It started with...he punched me the day before my mother’s funeral so about...two or three weeks ago. And it ended today whenever I told Tucker and he made me go to the police.”

“But you didn’t go straight to the police?” Her partner, a short blond man with a faint Canadian accent interrupted.

“No, I...he said that if either of us told anyone anything he’d kill us both. I knew that if he found out that I told Tucker, Claire--”

“Claire Keller, yes? The nurse that was brought in?”

“Yes, I knew that he would kill her if he found out. So Tucker grabbed his dad’s car and we went over to the house. His car wasn’t in the driveway, but he was there and whenever we were getting Claire, he...”

“Does this have anything to do with the assault charge he’s trying to pin on Lavernius?” The Latina woman asked, making Tucker gape up at her for a second in shock.

“That bastard,” Tucker basically growled and shook his head. “I was standing in the other doorway to his and Claire’s room whenever Kaleb came in and saw them leaving. He grabbed Wash and I let instinct take over. I kicked his dick and punched his face, but they were done in defending my boyfriend from a man who tried to rape him--”

The Latina cop nodded and held up a hand to cut off Tucker. “I understand. We’ll speak with Mr. Dunlap. I hope you get better soon, David.”

Wash nodded and gave her a smile before both cops turned and left. After a couple of moments of silence, Wash turned to look at Tucker. Tucker was hunched over, staring down at all of the bruises on Wash’s exposed arms in sadness.

“The charge is bogus, he’ll never be able to make it stick,” Wash told Tucker, squeezing their hands a bit.

“What? Yeah, no. He’s an idiot,” Tucker waved his free hand dismissively and smiled up at Wash.

“Then what is bothering you?” Wash asked gently.

Tucker shifted his eyes back down to Wash’s arms and pursed his lips. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. I hate it, like a lot. And I can’t help but think of how disappointed Thena and Jason would be that it took so long for me realize that there was something going on.”

Wash sighed and cocked his head to look at Tucker, “You knew that something was going on, I just never told you.”

Tucker shook his head and leaned over to press an impossibly gentle kiss to Wash’s knuckles. “You deserve better than Kaleb. I’m so sorry that it happened.”

Wash nodded, “I am, too. But what was it you said to me before? I can’t punish myself? You can’t punish yourself, either, dove. I...I know that the upcoming days are going to be hard for me and I’ll need you to be there for me.”

Tucker gave Wash and smile grin and stood to kiss his forehead. “You aren’t gonna be able to get rid of me for a while.”

\-----

He didn't spend all that much time with his Aunt Melinda while his mother was alive. She always seemed nice, though. But so had Kaleb.

Melinda and her transwoman wife stood in front of him, smiling nervously. They'd been given custody of him. 

"We're going to start looking for a house here in Chorus. We have job opportunities here and we don't want you to uproot your life to come live with us. As you know, both of your parents' families had a lot of money, let alone the money we make ourselves. We should be able to find somewhere nice, in your school district." Melinda was explaining. She was a tiny white woman, pretty with short red hair, and large glasses. Her wife had dark skin and long hair, and stood tall with broad shoulders and broad hips. She had dark, warm eyes and a kind smile. Her name was Angela, he already knew. They'd met once at a barbecue. 

"We know things have been hard for you, and we want to make them as easy as possible." Angela cut in. "You will be safe with us, we promise."

Tucker offers him a smile from where he sits, in a chair to the side. Wash nods.

"It'll take a while to find a house, so we'll stay in the Freelancer Hotel until we do. Once you get out of here, of course, but that should be any day." Melinda continued. Something dark twisted in Wash's stomach. It must have shown on his face, because Melinda's smile fell.

"Is something wrong?" She asked. Wash looked down at his hands. It was stupid, he was being stupid. What was he supposed to say?

"You're scared of us, aren't you?" Angela asked softly, her eyes full of understanding. His own eyes shot up to meet hers in surprise.

"You've just gotten done being horribly abused at the hands of someone you knew and trusted. And now they want you to move in with people you barely know, right away. It makes sense, we get it." Angela said, nodding. Melinda looked sad, but she nodded.

"Maybe it would be better if he stayed with me while you looked for a house. So he can have some time to start to recover with someone he trusts." Tucker spoke up. 

"That seems like a wonderful idea, if David wants to." Melinda agreed. All eyes turned to him. He swallowed thickly.

"I'd like that." He replied, the knots of worry in his gut loosening slightly. What he really wanted was for his father to wake up. He wanted his dad to wake up and he wanted his dad to hold him and make all the pain go away.

\------

Wash sat down on Tucker's bed and breathed in deep.

"I have salves and sprays for bruises, I can apply them for you." Tucker suggested as he shut the door. Wash hesitated. He'd avoided Tucker seeing any of the damage under his shirt- he'd made him leave when they were redoing his stitches- but the bruises on his abdomen hurt the worst.

"Yeah. I'd like that. But- the ones on my stomach hurt the worst, can you do those first?" Wash said. He loved Tucker. Tucker loved him. He was going to see the bruises and the whip wounds eventually, might as well face it head on. Although, luckily, the whip wounds would have to wait another day, he had a thing of gauze and bandages taped down across his back that he wasn't supposed to take off for two days. 

Tucker seemed to notice the importance of this, but he nodded as he picked up the little jar of salve. 

Wash took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head, wincing at the pain. Tucker came to sit next to him, and Wash turned towards him.

"Can I touch you?" Tucker asked, spreading salve onto his fingertips. Wash nodded, and braced himself for it to hurt.

He was beyond surprised whenever it didn’t.

Tucker gently spread the salve over Wash’s stomach--not bothering that try and warm it up because he knew how the coolness could feel almost blissful to bruised skin. His fingers moved slowly over Wash’s skin and massaged the salve into his bruises.

Wash figured that he shouldn’t really be surprised. He’d learned from both Church and Tucker that Tucker tended to get into fights--it would make perfect logical sense that he’d know how to hand bruises.

That thought, however, didn’t serve to comfort Wash any. Tucker knew how to do this from experience, and his least favorite thing to do--involving Tucker--was see or think about how much he got hurt.

“You can stay in my room tonight,” Tucker murmured quietly, pulling Wash out of his thoughts. “My bed is pretty soft so it shouldn’t be too bad for your back. My parent’s are out on their monthly bender, so they shouldn’t be back until next month, so I could probably steal their pillow top if it’d help.”

“Tucker, I can’t kick you out of your room. Your bed is pretty big, we could both--”

“Wash, I have nightmares pretty regularly,” Tucker paused in his work to look up at Wash. “And whenever I get a nightmare, I thrash around in my sleep. I can barely _gently_ touch you to help your bruises--I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I kneed you in the stomach in my sleep.”

Wash sighed and nodded. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll either set up a pallet on the floor or crash on the couch. I washed the sheets and blankets and everything yesterday whenever I got home so you don’t have to worry about my parents’ cooties.” Tucker teased lightly before finishing up with Wash’s stomach. “Okay, love, I’m gonna put a setting spray over this and then wrap it so that your shirts don’t get all dirty.”

“Go ahead. You know more about this than I do,” Wash tried to joke, but it came out sounding bitter. Tucker raised an eyebrow at him and turned to retrieve the spray, wiping off his fingers on a washcloth. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry.”

“I know, love. Your pain killer should start wearing off soon. I put the bottle in the kitchen and I can get it for you but if I’m not here, they’re on the middle shelf of the fourth cabinet right of the fridge.”  
Wash nodded and committed the location to memory as Tucker sprayed his goo-covered torso.

“Alright, sweetums. I know it’ll hurt your back, but I need you to sit up for me to put the wrap on.” Tucker positioned Wash as he wished before grabbing a box of washable ACE bandages and safety pins from his closet.

“Is that a blood stain?” Wash asked, horrified as he looked up at Tucker.

“Self misdiagnosed sprained wrist that was actually a break. I had to get Doc to set it, which lead to him somehow cutting me on accident. I didn’t notice until I saw the blood. Don’t worry, though, I washed out all that I could and I wouldn’t use that wrap on anyone but myself.”

“That’s not why I’d be worried, Tucker!” Wash’s went all squeaky as he yelled. Tucker chuckled and shook his head before grabbing and extra-long, extra-wide bandage and starting to wrap it around Wash’s lower torso.

“Yes, mama bear, I will be careful. Eighth grade was just a bad year. Now, this might feel a little tight. If it feels too tight, let me know so that I can loosen it up.”

Wash watched Tucker work with a small frown on his face and his brow furrowed in concentration. Once Wash was all wrapped up and Tucker had made a sufficient amount of mummy jokes, Tucker disappeared to fetch Wash some water and a pain pill.

Whenever he returned, Wash felt his heart flutter in his chest. It might be the pills, but it might’ve also been that Wash was able to convince Tucker that he needed cuddles, despite the bruises. He grinned at Tucker, who was lying on his side facing Wash. Tucker had his arm and leg curled under Wash’s body to try to alleviate the pain of lying on his side while Wash was snuggled up against Tucker, hands on his chest and legs tangled together.

“I don’t think that this is quite what your aunts had in mind whenever they agreed to this,” Tucker tried to joke, making Wash shake his head and lean forward to gently press their lips together. He felt his face crumble a bit as the weight of the situation rolled over him again.

Tucker pulled Wash closer, pulling his head to rest in the crook of Tucker’s shoulder. He felt it as quiet sobs shook through Wash’s body and tears streamed down his face and were soaked up by Tucker’s shirt. Tucker gently threaded his fingers into Wash’s hair and started lightly massaging his scalp.

“I love you, I’ve got you. It’s okay to cry,” Tucker murmured into Wash’s hair. Wash sobbed harder and hiccupped into Tucker’s neck. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

Wash nodded and curled his finger into Tucker’s shirt, just letting himself cry. “I’m sorry, you- you do so much for me and I just keep--”

“Don’t be sorry,” Tucker shook his head and moved to kiss Wash’s forehead. “Never be sorry for being hurt.”

Wash surged up to kiss Tucker hard, “Thank you. Thank you so much, I love you.” 

Tucker nodded. "I love you too."

Wash sighed, and let the tension leave him slowly. "I just...I wish I would have told you sooner." He wishes a lot of things. He wishes that the whipping wouldn't leave scars. He wishes he hadn't been whipped at all. He wishes Claire hadn't given herself up to save him. He'd rather his uncle have hurt him- have raped him- than have had to hear what he heard. The weight is too much.

Most of all, he wished his mother wasn't dead and his father wasn't in a coma. 

Tucker nodded. "Things like these are hard and fucking terrifying. It was so brave of you to tell me at all, I'm so proud of you." He paused, not sure how his next sentence would be taken. But he felt he needed to say it.

"Your parents would be proud of you too."

Wash's breath hitched painfully, but he doesn't start crying again. Instead, he curled into Tucker more, ignoring the pain in his body. It's more than worth the feeling of being in Tucker's arms. He let his eyes drift closed, and hoped if they fell asleep like this Tucker wouldn't leave.

"You're the only place I feel safe." He whispered softly, but the words hit Tucker like an anvil to the gut. He pressed a kiss to Wash's hair, throat tight. If he ever saw that asshole again, he'll do far more than kick him in the balls.


	8. famous last words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash and Tucker try to unwind and find some sanity in the ever-turning hurricane that is their world
> 
> **PLEASE GO BACK AND MAKE SURE THAT YOU READ THE RIGHT SIXTH CHAPTER, THERE WAS A BIT OF A MISHAP AND THE SEVENTH CHAPTER GOT POSTED FIRST AND IT WAS A COUPLE OF DAYS BEFORE ANYONE CAUGHT IT. PLEASE GO BACK AND READ THE SIXTH CHAPTER FOR MORE EXPLANATION OF THE SEVENTH. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So many  
> Bright lights, they cast a shadow  
> But can I speak?  
> Well is it hard understanding  
> I'm incomplete  
> A life that's so demanding  
> I get so weak  
> A love that's so demanding  
> I can't speak
> 
> I am not afraid to keep on living  
> I am not afraid to walk this world alone  
> Honey if you stay, I'll be forgiven  
> Nothing you can say can stop me going home."
> 
> -"Famous Last Words" by My Chemical Romance

_Kaleb's hands were all over Wash, shoving him against the wall. He could feel Kaleb’s teeth--sharper than a tac--biting harshly down onto his neck. He tried to fight and struggle, but it was no use. Kaleb roughly pulled down Wash’s jeans and slapped his ass._

_“It’s time you learn your lesson you little--”_

Wash opened his eyes as Tucker’s morning alarm went off. He blinked away his nightmare and stared up at Tucker’s relaxed sleeping face.

Wash had never woken up with someone’s arms wrapped around him. He used to think that it would be stifling--too warm and claustrophobic. After he and Tucker had started dating, Tucker had fallen asleep with his head in Wash’s lap or against his chest while they were studying or watching TV, but Wash had always stayed up to run his fingers through Tucker’s dreads and watch his sleeping face. He’d have fantasies of the perfect warmth of Tucker’s arms and the way Tucker’s breath would puff out against his cheek.

He didn’t think that Tucker’s warmth around him would be a bit ill-distributed, or that the way Tucker would hold him would perfectly keep pressure off of his bruises, or that Tucker’s dreads would shift in his sleep and tickle his nose. He didn’t think that whenever he’d snuggle closer to Tucker’s chest on instinct, Tucker would tighten his arm and adjust his leg supporting Wash that _had_ to be asleep by now.

He’d dreamed about perfect--the concept of it. But now he knew what it felt like.

And he never wanted to let it go.

“Tucker, love,” He buried his face in Tucker’s neck, earning a disgruntled noise from his sleeping boyfriend. He took refuge in Tucker’s warmth and safety--letting his presence scare away the last rays of his nightmare that were left. “Your alarm is going off.”

“Wait like...five minutes,” Tucker mumbled, curling tighter around Wash stubbornly. “It’ll go off by ‘self.”

“I need my meds,” Wash reminded him gently.

Tucker sighed and nodded, his arm over Wash’s waist leaving to grab his phone, Wash could feel it as Tucker put the phone too close to his face and read out the time. “Why the fuck...it’s Saturday.”

“Yeah?”

“My school-time alarm went off on a fucking Saturday morning. Fucking kill me,” Tucker groused, dropping his phone back onto his nightstand and looking down to make eye contact with his boyfriend who was currently laying on about two thirds of his body. “Good morning, sweetums.”

Wash grinned, feeling ridiculously domestic. “Good morning, dove.”

Tucker managed a wide smile despite the early hour. Then a thought occurred, and his smile faltered. He looked down over Wash in concern.

"How are you feeling? I didn't kick or squeeze you, did it? Are all your stitches alright?" He asked.

Wash shook his head, sitting up. "No, no. Not at all. You made me as comfortable as possible, even in your sleep. It was...nice." He assured Tucker.

Tucker sagged a little, less wound up. "Oh. That's good. How did you sleep?" 

Wash opened his mouth to reply, but paused. He should tell the truth, no matter how bitter it tasted in his mouth.  
"I, uh, I did have nightmares. But they didn't make me wake up screaming and choking like they usually do, so I ended up having one of the most sound sleeps I've had in a while. I have a feeling I have you to thank for that." He explained, leaning to kiss Tucker again. Tucker nodded, and went to reply, but was cut off by both their stomachs rumbling.

"I think that's my cue. You go take your meds and I'll go get started on breakfast." Tucker suggested. Wash nodded, and they both got out of bed. Wash tried not to wince despite how sore he was, he didn't want Tucker to worry over him more than he already was. He'd gotten used to the pain, at this point. Not that he's voice that out loud, it wasn't the greatest thing to say to your concerned boyfriend. 

He headed into the bathroom while Tucker headed for the kitchen. He couldn't really remember the name of the pain pill the hospital had prescribed him and he didn't care to read the bottle, but the pill tasted like death. They did help, so it was worth it. He took a moment to just lean against the sink, and rubbed his eyes. 

"You're safe. Claire's safe. Ka- he can't hurt you anymore. Just let it go and move on, Wash. It wasn't even that bad, tons of people had it worse. " He told himself sternly into the mirror. A curt nod to himself, and he headed back into the bedroom. He fished one of his dad's thin but soft sweaters, and carefully pulled it over himself. He had a love hate relationship with the feeling of being covered up. It still irked him a bit and he missed the freedom of randomly never wearing a shirt, but...he hated feeling exposed now. Shame and fear had been burned into him and he felt safer wrapped in the warmth and protection of his dad's sweaters. Maybe he could convince his dad to let him keep them if he woke up.

No, no, no. Not if. _When._

With that, he headed towards the kitchen.

To find Tucker dancing and singing to an obnoxious pop song.

_Now you're talkin' crazy, sayin' that you made me_  
_Like I was your Cinderella_  
_You and me are through though, watch me hit it solo_  
_I'm a do it acapella, yeah_

Tucker swayed his hips back and forth and sang loudly as he poured batter into a pan. 

_Once upon a time_  
_I met the perfect guy_  
_He got that Colgate smile_  
_He got that suit and tie_

Wash grinned and bit down and his bottom lip. He watched Tucker’s hips like an amateur magician’s hypnotic watch, transfixed on _that ass_. He felt himself grow a bit hotter underneath the sweater as he looked up and down Tucker’s body.

 _Momma always said_  
"Get a rich boyfriend,  
_You don’t have to love him, gurl,_  
_You can pretend.”_

Wash shifted and remembered the feeling of Tucker on top of him whenever they would wrestle, the way Tucker would straddle his hips and his gaze would go unfocused. He remembered the way Tucker’s eyes would get impossibly darker, the way he’d swallow nervously. Wash felt excitement flowing through his veins as he remembered the feeling of Tucker’s lips on his and hands on his his sides and fingers pushing up Wash’s shirt and--

Kaleb’s hands pushing down his jeans roughly as he shoved Wash into the wall. 

Wash shook his head and pushed that thought away.

_You bet I totes believed her, yeah, every word she said_  
_Thought he was gluten-free, but all that I got was bread_  
_Mama always said, "Nice guys finish last._  
_Beat him at his own game, honey, take the cash."_

Wash felt the grin return to his face. Tucker’s dancing may have mixed up his motions, making him feel aroused in a way that he felt he had no right to be, but...

He could push that bundle of feels away whenever Tucker was being _this much_ of a dork.

“That why you love me?” He lamented as he walked passed Tucker and fetched two mugs from the cabinet and poured both him and Tucker coffee, fixing them both to their preferences.

“Oh yeah, 100%. But you’re not innocent in this relationship, sweetums. You’re the money, I’m the looks,” Tucker joked and flipped the pancake expertly--he’d been able to make the perfect pancake since the beginning of fifth grade. He was pretty proud of it, actually. Kicked ass in seventh grade home ec.

Wash laughed lightly and waited for Tucker to put the spatula down to rest before offering his boyfriend his designated mug. Tucker sipped at it and grinned, leaning up to kiss Wash’s cheek.

“We’re perfectly domestic, aren’t we?” Wash realized after dropping down the few inches to kiss Tucker’s nose in retaliation.

“Perfectly.”

“And I do like walking in on you dancing,” Wash teased, resting his chin on top of Tucker’s head.

“Hey, get off of there you goddamn giant. My head is not your chin bed.”

"Chin bed may or may not be the stupidest phrase my ears have been graced with." Wash laughed as he moved away slightly. Then he turned to the side, inhaling deeply through his nose and sighing.

"That smells amazing. I see your cooking skills have developed past mud pies in the sandbox during recess." He said happily.

Tucker smiled at the memory and returned his attention to breakfast, scooping up come perfect pancakes and sliding them onto a nearby plate. Wash walked to the coffee pot which had just finished, and poured himself a cup. He didn't bother with creamer. 

Sipping his black coffee, Wash watched as Tucker served breakfast with a smile. He headed to the table and sat down next to him, spreading butter on the pancake before digging in and taking a bite. Tucker watched, trying not to let it show how much he longed for Wash's approval. He knew it was stupid, but no matter how much he could try and act like he didn’t care what people thought, he really did. Especially Wash.

Wash didn’t notice Tucker watching him, he was too hungry. Tunnel vision on the steaming pancake in front of him. He drew it up to his mouth and pulled it off the fork. The second it hit his tongue and his teeth sank into it he moaned, eyelids fluttering slightly. 

“Holy _shit_ Tucker! You’ve been holding out on me! Have you got Martha Stewart tied up in your closet or some shit?” He exclaimed, digging into the pancake to cut out a bigger piece with his fork. Tucker flushed a little, but tried to remain calm. 

“Don’t be so enthusiastic, you’re overselling it. If i did have her in my closet, though, she’d find a way to escape with ribbon and tooth floss no doubt.” Tucker pushed a stray dread back into place and started to eat himself, hiding his smile as best he could.

After breakfast, they don't have anything important to do so they decide a day just cuddling in bed, and at most watching Netflix, is a the way to go. 

“So,” Wash tilted his head up and rested his chin on Tucker’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of Tucker’s arm around his shoulders and other hand gently drawing circles on his hips where his shirt had raked up. It was funny--before everything went down, Wash was usually the big spoon during cuddle sessions. He now knew the appeal of being the little spoon. “I don’t know if this is gonna be touchy, but where _are_ your parents?”

Tucker gave Wash a small smile to let him know that the question was okay--almost every question coming from Wash was okay--and shrugged, taking care not to jostle Wash’s head. “Your guess is as good as mine. Vegas or LA or Atlantic City maybe?”

Wash pursed his lips and sighed. Tucker deserved better. He wondered if he could be that for Tucker--if he could protect him and take care and always tell him how much he loves him. He wanted to be that. He wanted to be what Tucker needed.

And, frankly, it was a lot easier to try and fix Tucker’s problems rather than think about his own.

“So, there’s no chance that someone will burst through that door yelling about _science!_ every time I kiss you?” Wash asked quietly, gaze flickering from Tucker’s eyes to his mouth, watching as Tucker’s tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“No chance at all,” Tucker murmured, stilling his hand against Wash’s hip and moving it gently underneath the hem of Wash’s shirt to hold his waist as he leaned forward. Wash surged up to close the gap between them and tried to pour all of his emotions into the kiss. He tried to tell Tucker how much he loved him with his lips.

Tucker grinned and let Wash’s tongue inside of his mouth whenever he felt it licking his bottom lip. He shift a bit to hover over Wash, pressing their lips together more insistently. He relished in the resulting moan from Wash. He let his hand ghost down from Wash’s side to his hip, spread his fingers apart in a way that nudged at the hem of Wash’s jeans.

Tucker felt warm, and good. He’d never get tired of kissing Tucker. He was so focused in on the feeling of Tucker’s mouth, which he was totally fine with, that he didn’t notice the hand drawing closer to his groin, pressed against the sensitive inner side of his hip. He froze, and the familiar gripping fear rose up to clog his throat. _Hands, hands, hands all over him. He was helpless and he deserved to be helpless. He deserved to be violated, not anyone else._

He forced those thoughts away, and attempted to keep kissing Tucker. He could feel tears pricking his eyes and he hated it. Stop it, stop it, stop! _Stop being so stupid,_ he commanded himself. He wasn't throne who'd been raped. He had no right to feel like this. Not to mention the fact that Tucker had done so much for him, had done nothing but love him. If Tucker wanted more, Wash wanted to give it.

He tried to ignore the churning in his stomach, and pressed himself against the hand, sparks of pleasure racing across his skin at the contact. Pleasure that somehow only made him want to die. Stop it! _Stop being so stupid!_ His mind repeated.

He brought a hand up to cup Tucker's head, but his hand was shaking so hard it did little but tremble in midair, and he was unable to will it away. 

Tucker pulled away from Wash gently and looked down at him, eyes screwed shut, hand shaking in midair, and eyebrows twisted together in a way that could not be comfortable.

“Love, what--”

“I’m sorry, I can’t--” Wash choked out, his hand moving to hide his face as sobs threatened to shake through his body. “Your hand--”

Tucker froze, pulling his hand away from Wash’s hip. His heart twisted in his chest, fuck _he had done this?_

“Oh my god, Wash, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to--” Tucker took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to comfort your boyfriend whenever he feels like you want sex. “I didn’t want- Sweetie, I don’t want any more from you than you want to offer me, okay? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Wash shook his head and buried his face into Tucker’s chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “It’s stupid, Tucker, I--”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Tucker grumbled, wrapping his arms around Wash at the perfect pressure, rubbing his hand over Wash’s back comfortingly. “It is not stupid. You don’t have to go through something traumatizing to not be ready for that yet. _I’m_ not ready for that. And you never have to. Sex isn’t some magical step to make a relationship somehow deeper. I love you so much, sweetie, and I never want you to feel like you owe me anything. Sex isn’t the end all be all to relationships. I like what we have now. I’m sorry if I made you think, even for a millisecond, that I’d want to take anything more from you.”

Wash nodded into Tucker’s chest, letting his sobs die down into silent tears. He hated this, hated that he was being affected by Tucker like _this_. Hated that three months ago, if Tucker had hovered over him and pressed his thumb underneath Wash’s jeans, Wash would’ve melted or whined.

He hated that he _wanted_ sex. He wanted to make love to Tucker and kiss every inch of his body and drive him crazy and tease him and--

And now? Now he can barely handle the thought of it.

He didn’t deserve Tucker’s graciousness or love when he couldn’t even give Tucker sex. There wasn’t even any trauma there, Wash was just being _stupid_ and now he couldn’t have something that he wasn’t even ashamed to admit that he’d dreamed about.

He sobbed and felt the itchiness under his skin and pit in his stomach. He hated that one person could hurt him like this. He hated that Tucker was being affected by this.

He just hated all of it. It just...it wasn’t fair.


	9. burn beyond control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kira and i have no chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I will hide myself below  
> I'll be what you wanted  
> Kept inside I won't let go  
> 'Till I burn beyond control"  
> -"Carnivore" by Starset

It's a nice house. Nice big lawns, two stories. Open space, big windows. Three bedrooms upstairs, one downstairs, two bathrooms, a large living room downstairs next to a nice big kitchen, and counter across half a wall is all that separates the living room and kitchen so you can see into both. It's...nice. New. A house full of light and potential.

And all Wash wanted to do was run as far away from it as possible. 

Melinda set down his bag in the foyer with a bright smile. "Do you like it? We had Tucker and that grumpy friend of yours with the neck beard over to help us finish unpacking."

Wash nodded. "Yeah. It's really nice."

"Your room is upstairs. We thought you'd be more comfortable in the room farthest from ours, so you could have more privacy, but you can choose any room you want. Ours is the master bedroom downstairs." Angela explained.

Wash forced a smile at her. "That's fine, thank you. If it's alright I'll just go start unpacking..." His skin was itching and the idea of being as far away from other people as possible sounded amazing right now. 

Angela nodded. "Okay, go ahead. If you need anything we'll be right here. Tucker will be over soon for dinner, Melinda is making stroganoff." 

Wash nodded, and headed towards the stairs. He headed to the room at the far end of the hall, and set his stuff down. The room was nice and big, and already had a bed and desk in it. The window let in light, to where there wasn't a single shadow.

For some reason, it made him want to curl up and cry.

\---

Tucker made his way to Wash’s new house for the eighth time that week. His back hurt--bad--from sleeping on the floor that night.

He vaguely wondered if Wash would notice.

Over the last week, Wash had been pulling away from him. He was becoming more and more angry and lashing out at anyone who went near him. And the worst part was, Tucker didn’t know _how_ to help him.

Actually, the worst part was that Tucker wasn’t even an exception. Tucker wasn’t spared in Wash’s path to burn everything he touched--Tucker was torched with everyone else. He tried to be patient, tried to let Wash snap out of it, but...

It hurt. It hurt whenever the love of your life who’d you’d been in love with through years of a Nicholas-Sparks-worthy struggle said just the right things to make you feel vulnerable and small. It hurt that Wash was so angry that he was willing to take his anger out on anyone. It hurt that Tucker wasn’t his exception. Literally every single romantic book and movie Tucker had ever suffered through preached to him to exact opposite.

Whenever you love someone, you _don’t_ hurt them.

Which brought up the debilitating question of if Wash even loved him anymore.

Whenever Tucker got up the stairs into Wash’s room, his boyfriend didn’t even bother to greet him--just stared up at the ceiling.

Tucker winced as he lowered himself down into the chair next to Wash’s desk. He let out a small sigh of relief as the pressure on his back alleviated. He’d been on his feet all day--severely regretting the choice to be an office aid during his off period. He would’ve preferred a park bench over the cold floor of his room. Fucking figures that the first time his parents would pay attention to him in months would be in the form of punishing him for letting Wash stay that week.

Not that he had told Wash, of course. See, that would require Wash to talk to him--or at least spend two minutes not complaining about how sweet and kind Angela and Melinda were.

“So my aunts fucking tried to make me do the dishes today,” Wash grumbled.

“How fucking dare they,” Tucker grumbled, not nearly in a good enough mood to put up with one of Wash’s pointless rants.

Wash frowned and turned to look at Tucker. He furrowed his eyebrows and felt anger roll under his skin. The anger wasn’t new--he felt it almost 24/7 after moving in with his aunts. But Tucker had never invoked it like this.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Wash growled.

Tucker sighed and shook his head, rolling his neck to try and help the way his back throbbed.

“Nothing, sorry. That came out a lot harsher than I meant to.”

“No, you obviously meant by it. I’m so sorry if my adjusting to life with a dead mother is such a fucking burden to you--”

“God, can you just--” Tucker let out a frustrated sigh. He shook his head and put his elbows on his legs, hiding his face from Wash. He blew out another breath and straightened, ignoring the way it made his muscles ache. He angrily gestured down the stairs with one arm while his other hand tried to massage the kinks from his neck. “You have two aunts down there who uprooted their entire lives--their jobs, their home, their _everything_ \--to help you! You are literally complaining about the fact that you have two people that love you unconditionally!”

“Fuck off--”

“No, Wash, for once you fucking listen, okay?” Tucker snapped, watching Wash recoil. “Do you know what I would fucking do to get my parents to tell me to do the dishes? To get them to fucking smile at me and let me know that they’re there for me? To reach out to my boyfriend and his best friend to help me move? Do you not realize how lucky you are?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Wash yelled, sitting up and clenching his fists. “Just because your parents don’t give a fuck about you doesn’t mean you get to lecture me!”

There's bile rising in his throat as his words hit the air, but he forces himself not to care. It has to work, at this point. There's no way Tucker could possibly stand him after saying something like that. Wash waited for him to do something. Scream. Leave. Hit him. Stop loving him. After all, Tucker didn't love Wash now. Tucker loved who Wash used to be and he couldn't let the lie keep breathing. He didn't care what came out of his mouth to get the tension to leave the air.

Tucker just stared at Wash, like he'd been punched in the gut. This wasn't the first time Wash had said something so horrible, used his worst pain against him. 

No, this wasn't the first time. But it would be the last.

Tears started to sting his eyes, and he resisted the urge to ball his hands into fists.  
"Fuck you. I can't- I can't do this anymore. We're done. Call me when you’re not an asshole!" He said as angrily as he can, even though his voice was cracking.

Wash's heart broke even more in his chest but he just huffs and turns his back on Tucker, facing the window. 

_You knew this was coming. You wanted this. You caused this. Just like you caused everything else. It's all your fault and you know it, so stop being so miserable._ His mind whispered to him as Tucker slammed the bedroom door and stomped down the stairs.

He watched silently out his window as Tucker left and started to walk down the street. He watched Tucker hug the jacket he's wearing- the jacket Wash had him a lifetime ago- closer around himself. Tucker keeps on walking, and never looks back. Washington watched him go till he was a blur in the city lights that are just starting to spark up in the face of dusk. He knows that Tucker won't come back. He hopes he doesn't. 

_He deserves better. He'll be better off without you. They all would be. You never should have told Tucker about Kaleb. Should have gotten Claire to run and you should have stayed. He was what you deserved. Now your just a burden on good people, how pathetic is that? Why are you washing dishes when you never eat?_

Wash turned away from the window. The lights were beginning to hurt his eyes. His heart is ripping at him from the inside out, hollowing his chest and filling it with ice. The minute it rises to the fire in his throat he'll surely drown.

He looked towards his backpack, and ponders the contents within it. He's been skipping school a shit ton, which led to him taking up a drug habit. If you count weed as a drug habit. It is, he knows.

His aunts and Tucker don't know. He didn't intend on it- he ran across some guys from school who also don't go to school hanging behind the gas station. It just..made sense. He was already worthless and pathetic, why not numb himself with the other worthless nobodies?

But he can't do that now. He needs to feel this pain, he deserves this pain. He had to hurt Tucker to drive him away and while it's justified and he's sure Tucker will forget about him soon enough, he's never going to forget. He never wants to and at the same time he wished he could forget everything. 

He deserved this pain. He deserves more. He'll get more, eventually, when his aunts come to his senses and hit him. But that's long term- he needs returbution now. 

He reached into the pocket of his bag he holds the weed and the spray he uses to cover it on the go, but only pulled out a lighter. He stared down at it in his hand and wished he had died in that car crash instead of his mother. 

He felt so overwhelmed by pain that he's gone numb from it. It's overloaded his senses and he needed a scream to pierce the static. 

He has his own bathroom, and that's suddenly a god send. He settled himself in the bathtub after locking the door, pants discarded. He leaves the boxers on.

He ran his hands over his legs, choosing where it would hurt most but be easiest to hide. He decided on the inner side of his right thigh, near the top. It would hurt like a bitch. And burns get more easily infected than cuts. And they can lose control. One of the guys behind the gas station had to have a skin graft, because he held an open flame to himself. He doesn't want his aunts to know, and he definitely doesn't want them to have to pay for his stupid medical bills. Although, that would definitely shorten the waiting period. Waiting, as in, waiting for them to give up on him like everyone else. Hit him. They have to hit him- he deserves it. He knows they're going to and he knows he's earned it and that just makes him angrier so he takes it out on them so they'll just hit him sooner and get it over with. But they haven't yet. 

Everyone either leaves, or hurts him, or gets hurt around him. He's a burden. And he's not gonna make himself not of one in a way he can't necessarily control.

But cutting...no, this just feels better. Feels right.

It occurs to him how fucked up he is at that point, where burning himself feels _right_.

But he's not stupid. At least, not totally stupid. So he flicks on the lighter and holds it down, turning it this way and that as he holds but at a horizontal angle, letting the metal around the head of the BIC heat up. Once he decides it's hot enough, he lets go and jams the heated metal against the inside of his leg. Holy shit, it hurts like hell. He holds onto that and clings to it, and here's Kaleb laughing. 

He wonders if his mother is laughing, wherever she is. Then he realizes what a horrible things that is to think and his hatred of himself spikes, sour on the tongue. 

He pulls the lighter away- it left a sort of strange smiling face, that's quickly welding and hurts like a bitch. 

He flicks on the lighter at a horizontal angle, feeling a sense of justice. He's taken justice against himself and wonders if he'll actually be able to get to sleep tonight thanks to it. 

\--------

“So, you single now?” Wash jumped at the voice behind him. It was an actual feat. that the bumbling track idiot (who the rest of the track idiots kept around for ‘diversity’) was able to sneak up behind him.

But then again, he was _hella_ high. Like, it was almost funny how high he was.

Except that his mom was dead, his dad was dying, and he hurt everybody he ever cared about.

Hi-fucking-larious.

Wait, what was the idiot saying again? Wash frowned up at him. He was _definitely_ saying something that he thought was important. Wash shrugged to himself and turned to leave, only to feel a surge of panic whenever strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. His blood ran cold and he turned to glare up at the idiot.

“Let me go.”

“Come on, princess,” The guy purred--his tone evoking memories of Maine and spoiling his high. “Just one date. Give me a chance?”

“I don’t fucking think so, let me go,” Wash growled, yanking on his arm to try and get it out of the other teenagers grip, which just seemed to tighten. Fuck, of course _now_ was when he fucking needed an overprotective boyfriend.

Oh. Well...speak of the devil.

Tucker pushed the track idiot back and got in his face. “He said to back off.”

“I don’t think I remember inviting his jealous ex,” The track guys growled, shoving Tucker in retaliation.

Fuck, no.

Tucker was supposed to _stop_ getting hurt because of him. This was wrong--this isn’t what was supposed to have. He hadn’t counted on this.

Why would Tucker even defend _him_?

Wash watched as Tucker and the track guy growled at each other until the track guy threw the first pun, which Tucker deftly ducked. He followed up, however, his a punch that seemed to knock the air out of Tucker before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall of locker--right beside Wash’s locker.

Fuck this was the _wrong time_ to be high.

The track guy threw Tucker down onto the ground and growled something quiet at him before stalking off--leaving Tucker to pick himself up off of the ground.

Wash felt like he was gonna cry. Although, he felt like that a lot. Maybe he was already crying. He tried to take a step towards Tucker and ended up on his knees besides him, and  
blinked.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, struggling to not sound high. Man, the world was spinning really fast. Fuck the world.

Tucker pushed himself up, and then froze, staring at Wash. Then he sniffed. And sniffed again. Wash froze. Oh no, that couldn't be good.

Tucker scrambled to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes blazing. Hehehehehe, blazing. Wait. Fuck.

Tucker's expression was full of pain. Why was it full of pain? That wasn't what Wash had wanted! Everything he's done he's done so Tucker wouldn't look like he did right now.

"Are you hurt?" Wash tried to ask in concern. Maybe that asshole had hurt Tucker worse and his high brain had been moving to slow to pick up on it.

"Are you high?" Tucker spat out, face twisting. Wash frowned up at him.

"I asked you first, man." He protested weakly.

Tucker closed his eyes to hold back the tears and shook his head. He turned away and stormed down the hall. Despite how much it hurt to watch Tucker go, he said nothing. 

Tucker paused at the end of the hallway, and unzipped his jacket. The jacket Wash had given him. He shrugged it off, and threw it into the trash can before turning the corner. And then he was gone, and Wash felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest even though he knew he had no right to feel that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to clarify because I don't know if we've explicitly stated it in this story yet:
> 
> Tucker's parents started ignoring him whenever he was like six. They started ignoring him because they are the type of people that _should not_ do drugs--not even marijuana. Over the course of the years, they've gotten into some harder stuff, but Tucker remembers the pot and links that to his parents' neglect.
> 
> Which was why he reacted _so_ badly whenever he realized Wash was high.


	10. will leave you in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chill is still gone. if found, please return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nothin goes as planned.  
> Everything will break.  
> People say goodbye.  
> In their own special way.  
> All that you rely on  
> And all that you can fake  
> Will leave you in the morning  
> But find you in the day"  
> -"In My Veins" by Andrew Belle

Tucker curled into Church’s side. They’d skipped school today--Tucker not wanting to go anywhere near Wash on what would’ve been their anniversary.

Four months. It was almost hard to believe how fast it had fallen apart.

Tucker still felt guilt thinking about how he’d left Wash, but for once in his life he didn’t want to be someone’s punching bag. Wash had had a lot of shitty things happen to him, but the number of people working together to help him? It was astounding.

But somehow Wash didn’t _want_ any of it. Who knew what Wash wanted? Tucker wasn’t even sure if _Wash_ knew what he wanted. But Tucker was done--he was tired of it. He’d been ignored, knocked down, dragged through mud, kicked while he was down, and abandoned.

He would _not_ be in an abusive relationship.

~~He wouldn’t be able to take it.~~

Tucker looked up at Church whenever he tightened his arm around Tucker’s shoulders. Tucker could count this as another surprising thing. Church was surprisingly supportive and even caring about Tucker whenever nobody else was.

Their friendship had suffered a bit whenever Tucker started dating Wash--Wash’s jealousy of how close they were and Church’s natural born antagonism made spending time with both of them taxing. But somehow, whenever Tucker randomly showed up at the Church ~~mansion~~ house, Church had taken one look at him and softened.

It was funny...before Wash came back, Tucker and Church had almost dated. But the week after Church and Tex broke up, Wash showed up. They never got the timing right--one of them was always emotionally unavailable while the other waited.

Which, of course, meant that their friendship--while still _just_ a friendship--involved a few perks. One of them being platonic cuddling and Disney movies whenever Church realized just how close to snapping Tucker actually was.

They were cuddled up on the couch watching Finding Nemo--they’d skipped the beginning part where Marlin loses the love of his life, labeling it too emotional instead of too triggering--whenever Tucker got the call from Wash’s aunts.

Tucker frowned down at the caller ID, but it might be important. He answered, sitting up as he held the phone to his ear. Church paused the movie, watching Tucker with concern.

"Hello?" He asked.

" _Tucker, is Wash with you?_ " Melinda's strained voice asked over the machine. Tucker's heart panged in agony, but he ignored it.

"No. Why, is something wrong?" He replied, a little bit of a bitter edge to his tone.

" _He hasn't been home for three days! He hasn't called, hasn't been at school- we asked around and no one's seen him anywhere. Angela thinks he might be in danger of- of hurting himself, and we have to find him before he does something rash-_ "

"Three days? JESUS- wait, what do you mean, something rash?" Tucker asked, heart stopping. Church sat up when he saw the tension in Tucker's back.

" _It's not uncommon for victims of trauma and abuse to hurt themselves, isolate themselves, and im just so scared-_ " Melinda's voice cracked. " _The way he's been acting, I'm terrified we're not gonna find him alive. I'm going to call the police, and if you hear anything, call me alright?_ " Melinda seemed to be trying to compose herself, but Tucker felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart. He stood up abruptly. 

"I'm coming over."

" _Tucker, you don't have to-_ "

"I don't care how much of an asshole he's being, I still love him and I need to be there with you. I'll be over soon." He said firmly, then hung up the phone. He stood still, staring down at the phone.

"You don't have to go. He doesn't deserve you running out there for him. You deserve better." Church speaks up, in an offhand tone. As if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. 

Tucker shook his head, throat tight as he reached to grab his jacket- one he had had forever. He'd almost forgotten that Church had given it to him in 8th grade. It was warm in his shaking hands and that didn't seem right.

Nothing seemed right anymore.

"I have to go." He said, and then he was gone out the door and onto the street.

Church just stayed there, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.

"I wish you didn't have to." He whispered to an empty room, with far more sincerity than he'd ever allowed himself to show around another human being. 

\----

Tucker sighed heavily as he paced across Wash’s living room. He had searched everywhere he could think of--Wash’s old house, the school, the tennis court, the gas station behind school, the abandoned house where people went for raves, the...crack house where teenage runaways found refuse.

The bridges.

No one could find Wash.

The police had been called and the detectives seemed eager to write this off as a runaway. But Tucker had been looking for eight hours--hadn’t even been able to stop to eat. Melinda and Angela were worried sick and Tucker was scared that if he stopped for any amount of time it might all sink in.

After everything he and Wash had been through...if Wash killed himself, Tucker would never forgive him.

If Wash gave up then the only person who had ever given any fucks about Tucker would be dead and Tucker wouldn’t be able to live with that. He couldn’t.

Wash wasn’t allowed to do this.

Angela walked into the living room silently--trying to find something to do to keep herself occupied so that she doesn’t think about how much this situation was parallel to her brother’s before he...

She closed her eyes angrily and shook her head, looking up to find Tucker in her living room, arms wrapped around himself and sobbing silently.

Tucker.

That was one thing that her brother never had that she was almost pissed at Wash for ruining. She had never met a teenager who loved so deeply. Tucker had dropped everything to search for Wash for hours. He hadn’t wavered in his faith that Wash would be okay--even spent fifteen minutes helping Angela come down from an anxiety attack.

Internally, Angela berated herself for leaning on Tucker whenever he was just a child himself. A child who had never lost someone. A scared teenager who had watched his own parental figures die in a car accident and get put in a coma. A scared teenager who watched his best friend and boyfriend pull away dramatically and had to face his boyfriend’s abuser. A scared teenager who never had parents.

A scared teenager who just wanted a normal life.

Angela shook her head again and pulled Tucker into a fierce hug.

“We’ll get him back,” She murmured into his dreads whenever Tucker melted against her. She felt the silent sobs continue to rack through his body and tears pool on her collar bone. 

“We will,” Tucker clutched onto Angela like a lifeline. “He’ll come back and he’ll still hate me and I have no idea how to fix it.”

“Neither do I, love,” Angela winced slightly. “Just...just let it all out.”

Angela rubbed his back as he cried for a while, heart aching. She was just about to open her mouth to say something when the door creaked open. But Melinda was upstairs- 

She made eye contact with a ragged looking Wash, who momentarily looked ashamed. Then his mask of impassiveness fell back down. 

Angela let go of Tucker to alert him of the new arrival. Tucker turned, and a thousand emotions clashed in his chest. 

Then he stormed forward, coming to stand in front of Wash. 

"Let me see your arms!" Tucker demanded, voice strained with emotion. His eye, red from crying, where full of fire. And pain.

Wash furrowed his brow. "What? Why would I do that?"

"So I don't have to be terrified of you hurting or killing yourself!" Tucker exclaimed, and held out a hand. "Let me see your arms!"

Wash glared at him. "Why would it even matter if I was? Why are you getting so worked up? I'm not your problem anymore, remember?" He snapped, taking a step backwards towards the door.

Tucker clenched his jaw and looked up at Wash pleadingly, hoping that Wash would see the desperation, the tears...  
“Because even though I know that you’ve stopped giving a crap about me, I _meant_ it whenever I told you that I love you. Whenever I said that I always will.”

Wash felt his heart get lighter in his chest before he stomped it down. Tucker didn’t love him--he just thought that he did. Even if he did, though, Tucker shouldn’t waste his love on someone like Wash.

Tucker was precious. Tucker’s _heart_ was precious. Wash knew that he was breaking it, but Tucker deserved so much better than Wash. This was for Tucker’s well being.

So he rolled his eyes and gave Tucker an unamused face.

Tucker looked pained for a minute, closing his eyes to stop the onslaught of tears that accompanied the feeling of having his love invalidated and ignored. Whenever he spoke, his voice was soft and broken, gently pleading--always gentle, always pleading--with Wash. “Please, Wash. It’s different knowing that you’re safe even though you don’t want me and losing you, too. I just...if you _ever_ felt the same way, Wash, please...”

Wash’s mouth dropped open as he stared down at Tucker. He hadn’t seen that much pain on Tucker’s face since the funeral--never had he seen it whenever Tucker knew that Wash was looking at him.

How could Tucker think that Wash never loved him? _Everything_ Wash did was to protect him.

 _But was it? Wasn’t it just easier to push him away before he hurt you, too? Wasn’t this all you throwing a temper tantrum? Trying to protect yourself? Or maybe it was to punish yourself? Maybe both...maybe you just like the life philosophy that nobody can hurt you except for you._ Wash grimaced at the irritating voice in the back of his head that sounded annoyingly like his mother being reasonable.

A grimace which Tucker must’ve misinterpreted as the answer to his pleading. Or maybe it was that Tucker had taken a step forward while Wash was thinking and was now definitely close enough to smell the marijuana scent that was still lingering on his clothes.

“You--” Tucker floundered for bit, looking up at Wash in something akin to betrayal. “You left for three days--had all of us worried sick--and all of this was just to get _high_!?”

Wash almost flinched at the tone of Tucker’s voice, but was able to keep the bored look on his face as he stared down at Tucker. Almost faltering again whenever sorrow mingled with the anger to form a look that Wash was pretty sure was meant to kill him.

“How fucking _could_ you!? You selfish bastard! Everybody goes through pain! You can’t numb it out! Pain doesn’t fucking work that way! What makes you so special that you don’t have to feel it!?” Tucker growled. “But then again, you really aren’t special, are you? I really thought that I was better than the whole ‘attracted to people who are like your parents’ trope, but I guess that really hits this on the nose, huh? Happy anniversary, asshole. Have a nice life.”

Angela watched with a heavy heart as Tucker stalked out into the night. She turned to Wash and shook her head before sighing. “There’s soup in the microwave. I know you don’t care, but I only just got Melinda to actually sleep, so please don’t make a lot of noise.”

Wash watched as both members of his welcome party left him.

And there he was.

Alone.

Just like he wanted.

_Happy now?_

\----

The moon illuminates his room. He doesn't have any curtains, never saw any need. He hides from the world enough.

He's so overcome by the realization of what he's done that even the burning can't relieve the numb ache that's settled in his bones. It's almost past midnight, now. The sky is clear; his path is revealed in the spaces between the stars. Lights that stopped burning thousands of years ago, now just ghosts to the slow eyes of earth.

He knows what he has to do. It hurts- he hurts in so many different ways, now. Burning cold inside, trickling down his throat and into his blood. Clogging his lungs and disintegrating the remains of his aching heart.

He has to go. He's gathered everything he might need. A backpack with weed, all his burning utensils, all his savings, and some clothes. He spent an hour writing a note till it was perfect, and set it on his desk in plain view. 

It's a good night to runaway, the moon is bright and his future is dull. Melinda and Angela put locks everywhere, but forgot he knew where the keys where. He tiptoed down the stairs and pulled them from the kitchen cabinet, and headed for the door. He takes one last look around the kitchen, and pulls his jacket tighter around himself. The jacket he's given to Tucker. The jacket Tucker had thrown away, and he'd dug out of the garbage and kept. He liked to smell it at night- it smelled like Tucker. His cologne he barely used. The oil in his dreads, that tangy scent that followed him everywhere. He didn't know what that was- maybe that was just Tucker's natural scent. Not that he'd ever find out, now.

With tears in his eyes, he sighed and walked out the door. He shut it quietly behind himself and headed into the street. He'd catch the overnight bus to Mother of Invention. Maybe take a bus from there to some other random city. Smoke all his weed. Find a place to kill himself where no one who was unfortunate enough to care about him would find him. 

Hopefully, they'd all move on with their lives knowing the truth.


	11. eleventh hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Everything will change  
> Nothing stays the same  
> Nobody here's perfect  
> Oh, but everyone's to blame  
> Oh, all that you rely on  
> And all that you can save  
> Will leave you in the morning  
> And find you in the day"  
> -"In My Veins" by Andrew Belle

_"But I don't want you to go! You're my best friend!" Young Tucker exclaimed, tears welling in his eyes. Young Wash kicked at the sand in the sand sadly._

_"My parents tried to get out of it.." He said meekly._

_"Run away! We'll run away together and start a band!" Tucker exclaimed._

_Wash cracked a smile, shrugging. "I can't play an instrument and you can't sing. But..." He took a deep breath and finally looked up. He walked over to the trembling boy and put his hands up on his shoulders, forcing a smile._

_"They say I'll come back. And when I do, I'll be taller than you!" He laughed._

\---

_Tucker looked around him, at all of the darkness. He tried to look down at his hands, his feet--anything._

_There was nothing._

_He felt sobs shake his body, but couldn’t hear them. He tried to scream, tried to yell, tried to cry, tried to run. He couldn’t do anything. He was nothing. Noth-_

Tucker gasped awake, sitting up too fast for his back to allow. He let out a pained groan, but muffled the noise by forcing his knuckles into his mouth. Fuck that hurt.

He carefully adjusted the angle of his back and looked down at his vibrating phone--lighting up with a selfie that Angela had taken of her, Tucker, and Melinda on moving day. Tucker let out a sigh and shook his head, half tempted not to answer.

He needed to sleep. It was half past midnight and he’d only just gotten as close to comfortable as the dirty carpet in his bedroom allowed whenever his phone started ringing again. He felt his blood run cold in his veins as he tensed.

They wouldn’t call twice if it was a butt dial. Two calls meant that something bad had happened.

_Wash._

Tucker pushed down the thought of his _ex_ -boyfriend and rolled over to grab his phone off of the charger and answer the call.

_”Please tell me he’s with you.”_

Tucker let out a pitiful sigh and shook his head, numbness settling over him. “No, he’s not. Now that that’s out of the way, can you please stop involving--”

_“He left a note,”_ Angela whispered, cutting through any part of Tucker’s decision process that had any sense of self preservation.

“Tell me it’s not...” Tucker swallowed thickly as the resulting silence. “I’ll be right over. You won’t lose him, too, Angela. I’ll do everything I can to get him back for you. I- I won’t let him do this.”

Angela let out a shuddering sob and whispered a thank you before hanging up. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and stared at the note on Wash’s desk. She tried not to let herself get sucked into the blackhole of comparing Wash to her younger brother. She tried not to think about how their smiles were so similar, about how they were so hurt. She tried to talk herself into believing that Wash was _not_ Ethan.

Wash wouldn’t...

Angela doubled over as grief overwhelmed her. Melinda turned and looked over at Angela worriedly, crossing the room in three strides to wrap her arms around her wife. Angela melted into the embrace, gripping Melinda’s sleep shirt like it was the only thing in the world keeping her afloat.

“They aren’t the same, Angel,” Melinda insisted. “Ethan never had us or Tucker. Wash has a safety net--”

“Wash doesn’t _want_ a safety net,” Angela pulled away from Melinda, looking up at her and half-screaming in a broken tone. “We can’t help someone who won’t help themselves but I can’t lose him!”

Melinda nodded. “I know, sweetie, I know, but you cannot lose it right now. Both of us need to keep our heads on, especially whenever Tucker gets here.”

“...How did you know he was coming?” Angela asked softly, earning a small, sad smile.

“Thena would be here if it was Jason, you’d be here if it was me. Tucker loves Wash. He won’t...he won’t let Wash do this.” Melinda insisted, earning a curt nod as Angela wiping her tears away.

“Its hard to remember that they’re still just teenagers,” She murmured to herself. Melinda shrugged.

“Is there really anything as ‘just’ a teenager? Tucker been raising himself so he’s practically an adult and...you of all people know that once you get out of an abusive situation...you’re not a kid anymore.”

\-----

Wash sighed, breathing fogging upward into the night air. It's almost 1:00 AM, and the bus doesn't come till 2:00. The seat is uncomfortable and the light in the little transit booth is broken. He's enveloped in virtual darkness. Nobody, not a single soul, was in sight. He'd already smoked one of the joints he rolled beforehand, and now he's just turning the lighter over in his hands. The silence gave him time to think. Thinking leads to numb agony in his heart and bones. He wished there was a better way. He wished he could just take everything he did to his aunts and Tucker back. 

Wash rolled up his left sleeve. It wasn't like he had anything to hide now. He held the lighter horizontally and flicked it on, rolling it around the metal till it was heated up. Then he was satisfied, he let go and went to jab it into the flesh of his arm- but a hand around his wrist stopped him. His head snapped up to be greeted by the sight of a very pissed off looking Church. He yanked his arm out of Church's grip.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Wash exclaimed.

"I could ask you the same thing, asshole! I'm looking for you, just like everyone else. They're falling apart, they think you're gonna kill yourself." Church exclaimed. Wash flinched a little, and wrapped his arms around himself. Church sat down angrily on the bench next to him.

"Do you have any idea how much of an asshole you are? Tucker doesn't deserve to be hurt so badly by the love of his life!" The words tasted bitter on Church's tongue. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

"Why do you think I'm doing this, you dick? If you really care about Tucker just let me go so he can be happy. You can have him, he's all yours. I know how you feel about him." Wash snapped. 

Church clenched his jaw. "I know you're doing this because your fucking stupid and you think running away and offing yourself is the only solution. But let me tell you, you're hurting them more! You have no right to run away! You have no right! You deserve more than hurting yourself and hurting others. It doesn't matter what I feel. It matters what I know. And I know you fucked up. You fucked up and took your pain out on them, regardless of your reasoning. And now you're just gonna leave. If you REALLY wanted to make up for what you did, you'd go home right now and face the music. Let them decide how you should repay them. And let them in! Let them in, let them love you! You have no idea what some people would give for that chance, and here you are, about to throw it all away!"

"I can't! I just- I can't." Wash exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. "I can't do this anymore. I hurt them so bad and I can never take it back, it's all too much!"

"Bullshit. Stop numbing the sharp pain and stop combating the numbness with more pain. Just accept it, and take responsibility and tell them the truth. You'll be punished, yeah, but not that bad because they understand. Tell yourself the truth. They'll forgive you. And they'll love you, and support you, and give you hope again. And then you'll forgive yourself and you and Tucker will be together in all your glory again. He'll hold you and he'll kiss you and you'll be happy and everyone will heal. Doesn't that sound better than killing yourself and them living miserable for the rest of their lives, blaming themselves?" Church huffed desperately, starting to get exasperated.

Wash felt the tears track down his face, and looked down at his feet. He pulled the jacket tighter around himself.

"I owe them, to try. Whatever they decide...I'll take it. I'll be...better." He finally whispered into the night. 

Church leaned back, relaxing slightly.  
"Start by dumping all that fucking weed. And it's not a debate about whether weed is good or bad, I don't care. It triggers the fuck out of Tucker and if you care about him you'll never do it again." Church told him. Wash nodded, and pulled the bag out of his backpack. He upended it over the storm drain, dumping everything into darkness and then tossing the bag into the street. He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulders. He paused.

"I don't want them to smell it on me..." He whispered.

"The smell of Axe or some shit will just offend them, knowing you tried to cover it up. Just go. And-" Church looked away.

"I don't care. Don't go spreading rumors I care."

Wash shook his head, still crying. "I-I won't. Thank you." 

"Yeah, right, asshole. Get walking." 

\----

_"Dear Melinda, Angela, and Tucker-_

__

> _Let me start with how sorry I am. God, I'm so sorry that I can barely breathe. I wish I was brave enough to tell you how sorry I am in person, but I'm weak. I know you'd try and talk me out of it. Tell me it's okay. Tell me you love me. But you don't- you loved who I was. I'm broken and pathetic now, and you're all good and wonderful and I love you so much. I love you more than you'll ever know. I never stopped loving you._

>   
>  _I hurt you because I loved you- and now I realize how stupid and horrible that was. I was trying to push you away by showing you how worthless I was, so you could go on with your lives._

>   
>  _Everyone who gets close to be either seemed to get hurt or to hurt me. I didn't want that to happen to you all, so I tried to make you hate me as much as I hate myself. I smoked all that weed so I wouldn't have to think about how much it hurt. I shouldn't have, maybe I could have realized how much I was really hurting you sooner. I didn't realize that I was effecting you so much. I thought if I drove you away with temporary pain I could spare you from the long term pain of having to deal with me. And at the same time, I was trying to protect myself from when you'd eventually turn on me and hurt me. I thought it was better for everyone if I drive you away. Now I realize it will be better for everyone if I go away._

> _I'm sorry for everything. Please don't feel like any of this is your fault. It was always my fault. The crash wasn't my fault...but everything after was. There's something wrong with me, that makes the people around me either get hurt or snap to where they hurt me. Kaleb really did used to be so nice. If my dad wakes up, tell him I'm sorry for ruining his brother. Tell Claire thank you, and that I'm sorry for all the pain I caused her. I was the one who should have been raped. I wish I had been. I wish I'd died in the crash instead of mom. I wish I could take back all the pain I inflicted on everyone. I'm sorry, and goodbye. Where I'm going, the only person I'll ever hurt is myself. The only one that deserves it._

_-With Love And Regret, David Washington."_

Tucker reread the letter for what felt like the millionth time, tears streaming down his face and splashing onto the page--blurring the unrushed ink in the form of Wash’s handwriting.

He’d gotten cheesy love letters in this handwriting.

And now it was lost to him forever.

He fell to his knees in the middle of Wash’s room and curled into a ball, sobbing harder than he ever had before. God, it was all his fault. He shouldn’t have yelled like that. He never should’ve let Wash go. But he did. And now Wash was gone--Wash was _killing himself_ \--and nothing Tucker could do would change anything.

Tucker remembered the first time Wash left him--whenever Wash moved. He’d wanted to kiss him. Wash had told him that they’d meet again, but hope was never something that Tucker would let himself feel.

Anger? Sure, that’s what got him up in the morning.

Fear? Absolutely, that’s what kept him safe in his neighborhood.

Hope? No. Hope was was toxic.

But then, like a fucking STD Wash came back stronger than ever. He’d completely shaken up Tucker’s world. He ran in with no warning and made Tucker fall in love with him all over again. And now he’s left with no warning in a way that made Tucker wish that he could just forget.

Forget about the pain of hope.

The pain of love.

He never asked for this.

“Sweetie,” Melinda’s voice was soft and resigned behind him, everybody in the too-big house giving up hope. It had been hours. If Wash wasn’t home by now... “Angela and I are going to have a family meeting in the living room--”

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Tucker shot to his feet and turned to look at Melinda desperately. “Please, _please_ don’t make me leave--”

“We want your input...we want to know if you...” Melinda let out a long sigh and looked Tucker in the eyes. “Whenever we get Wash back, we want to know if you’ll be here.”

Tucker blinked, then ran a hand through his hair. "I want to be. I will be. I don't care if he tries to push me away again, I'm staying. God, he-" Tucker squeezed his eyes shut. "I thought he didn't love me. I should have known what he was doing, I should have-" 

Melinda swept forward and cupped his face in her hands.  
"You had no way of knowing. None of us did. You were in pain. I don't care what reasoning someone has, never apologize for protecting yourself. This is all- it's all a big mess, and it's no one's fault and everyone's fault, you know?"

Tucker took a deep breath, and nodded. Melinda led him down the stairs where Angela and Claire were waiting. He hadn't seen Claire recently, she'd been at a center for women, healing. She looked better, but her eyes were full of pain and worry. She'd read the note too. Angela was pacing back and forth.

Angela was practically ripping out her hair in panic. Tucker didn't blame her- they'd told him about Angela's little brother who'd committed suicide, Ethan. This all must be like a horrible case of deja vu. 

"I don't care if it's been 24 hours or 48 hours or what, I'm calling the police!" Angela exclaimed, pulling out her cell phone. Melinda stepped forward. But before anyone could say anything else, the door opened. All they're heads whipped to stare as Wash stepped inside the doorway, staring down at his feet. 

Tucker could barely believe his eyes. Wash was there. Alive. Not hurt. Not glaring. Wearing the jacket he'd given Tucker, that Tucker has thrown away. He should have known he'd dig it out of the trash.

He was _alive_! Tucker raced forward and threw his arms around the other boy. He smelled like weed and garbage. Tucker clung to him, tears returning. Wash didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Tucker, heart twisting in guilt. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispered desperately. 

Tucker shook his head and tightened his hold on Wash. “No, we’re not doing that, okay? We’re not- we can’t. I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry or that you want to be alone. I just- please just let me hold you for like five hours before we start talking about this.”

Wash let out a huff of laughter despite himself, melting into Tucker’s embrace and nuzzling his face into the crook of Tucker’s neck. He’d missed this. He’d missed it so much. Missed holding Tucker and being held. On good nights, he’d have dreams about waking up next to Tucker and wake up sobbing--yearning for the one thing he thought he’d never be able to have.

He’d missed the way he somehow felt lighter with Tucker’s arms around him--like it was easier to breathe.

He’d missed Tucker.

So he let himself enjoy this. He let himself melt into the hug and pepper Tucker’s temple with butterfly kisses. He let himself take what Tucker offered.

And he let himself let out a _very_ displeased noise whenever Tucker pulled away.

Tucker wiped the tears off of his face with his sleeve--big fucking help that was whenever he _wouldn’t stop crying_. He looked up at Wash’s face and steeled himself for the rejection. “Sorry, I know you don’t care, I just--”

Wash cut him off by pulling him into another hug. “Five hours--no apologies, right?”

Tucker nodded and sunk into the hug, easily clinging to Wash like the riff between them had never happened. “Five minutes...then...then we need to talk.”

Wash felt his blood run cold at Tucker’s words, but nodded. Whatever his aunts and Tucker--and oh hey, Claire--felt he deserved, he’d take it. He just hoped that he hadn’t forever ruined his relationship with Tucker.

That would be the final nail in his coffin.

Unfortunately, five minutes could only last so long, and his aunts where keeping track. Angela laid a hand on Tucker's shoulder, and he pulled away. Wash took a step to the side, shutting the door fully behind him. He avoided looking up at all of them, he couldn't.

"We all read the note." Melinda decided to start, voice strained. Wash nodded.

"We understand why you've been acting this way, but that's no excuse for it." Angela cut in, voice trembling. "No more running away. No more. We thought, we thought- that you were going to take your own life. Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?" 

Wash nodded, wrapping his left arm around himself. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. I promise I won't now, you don't have to be afraid of that anymore." He replied, in a meek voice. 

Angela seemed taken aback, face crumbling slightly. "You were? You were going to-" she put her hand over her mouth. She had hoped she'd misread it. But she hadn't. 

Wash bit the inside of his cheek. "I thought it would make things better. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, for everything." His voice cracked, and his eyes stung.

Angela took a step towards him. Then a step back. She didn't seem to know what to do.

"If you ever feel that way again, please, please-" More tears fell to smear what was left of her makeup. "Please come to us. Or Tucker, or someone! Don't run away from us, please. We've done nothing but try to help you." 

Wash nodded. "I won't ever leave again. I won't run away and I won't skip school and I won't be mean and I won't smoke and I won't- I'll be better, I promise." He was still staring at his shoes, and his throat was closing him. He reached behind him to dig his fingernails into the counter. This was it. It was coming.

"We understand how you're feeling, but we do not condone any of your actions. You've hurt us, hurt yourself, broken the law and terrified everyone one too many times, young man. We understand your pain and we'll be there to help you handle it in the right ways. Therapy. Support. Love. If you need a break from school you ask us. We are your guardians, your family. We're going to keep the keys safe, and we might take your bedroom door away and your bathroom door away until we're sure we don't have to be worried about...about suicidal thoughts. You are grounded to this house until we decide otherwise. You will catch up on your schoolwork and you will apologize to Tucker and to us. We love you, and that's why we have to punish you. It's obvious giving you your space was the wrong approach. Don't doubt the strength of the discipline we intend to enforce, do you understand?" Melinda announced in a gentle but firm voice, stepping towards him. Wash felt his heart pounding in his chest. This was more than he deserved. 

The last time he'd been in a kitchen with an adult who was angry at him...maybe she wouldn't. No, she had to. He deserved it, after everything he's done. Why were they dragging it out? Grounding wasn't enough punishment for what he had done! He nodded to her words solemnly, still staring at his feet as she approached. If she did, it wouldn't be much. A slap, probably. A slap across the face. He waited, and waited, as waited. Time seemed to drag slowly as she raised her hand towards him-

Only to cup his jaw and kiss his forehead. He stiffened even more in shock. She seemed to notice, and stepped away slightly.

"What's wrong? We aren't- we aren't punishing you for being suicidal, that's not your fault. We aren't punishing you for your pain, we're just putting our foot down to get things in order around here, for your own good. The grounding won't even last that long and Tucker can be over as much as he wants-" Strict Melinda started to melt into concerned gentle Melinda, and she cocked her head. He shook his own head, and finally looked up at them all, eyes wide and slightly watery. Full of shock, awe, pain, and realization. He looked insanely vulnerable.

"You aren't going to hurt me." He said softly, more of an epiphany to himself than a statement.

It shattered everyone's hearts, and Melinda felt her tears return. She wrapped him into a hug, heart tearing itself apart.

"Never." 

\------

Tucker watched Wash settle down on his bed as he closed the door behind them. He had a feeling that any minute now, Wash was going to start freaking out.

Which meant that he was going to pull away again.

“Look, babe,” Tucker breathed out as he stepped towards Wash, eyeing the soft bed enviously. _What he wouldn’t give to spend the rest of the night on that bed._ He dragged his eyes from the bed to Wash. “I know that any second now, you’re due to start breaking down. And I know that there is a strong possibility that you will...pull away again. But I just...I want you to know that I can’t do that again.”

Wash looked up at Tucker terrified. _Oh fuck no. He’d thought...after what Melinda had said, he’d thought they had forgiven him. Fuck, no, he couldn’t lose Tucker!_ “Tucker, please don’t- we can work this out.”

Tucker’s eyebrows furrowed together as he looked down at Wash confusedly before mentally reviewing what he’d said. He gasped a little and froze, realizing how it sounded.

Honestly, before the crash, the humiliated look on Tucker’s face would’ve been hilarious.

“No, sweetie. That’s not what I meant. I meant...I’m not going to give up on you--on us--ever again. I’m not gonna let you push me away.” Tucker gave Wash a pained smile. “I can’t stand to be away from you ever again.”

Wash almost sobbed in relief as he dropped his head down into his hands and focused on breathing.

“I’ll let you be alone, sweets. I need to get home anyway. Who knows, maybe my parents will be waiting for me,” Tucker’s dry grin stretched across his face and made it look more pained than anything.

Without thinking, Wash grabbed Tucker’s wrist and pulled him down onto the bed next to him.

“I really don’t wanna be alone for this part,” Wash whispered, watching as the breath over Tucker’s collarbone cause goosebumps and made Tucker wrap his arms around Wash in response.

“All you have to do is tell me,” Tucker promised, lips brushing over Wash’s oily hair. He laid there next to his boyfriend, holding him as sobs shook through his body like panic through a crowd.

Both boys promised themselves that they’d never walk away from this again.


	12. this deadbeat town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NO CHILL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Simmer down, simmer down  
> They say we're too young now to amount to anything else  
> But look around  
> We work too damn hard for this just to give it up now  
> If you don't swim, you'll drown  
> But don't move, honey"  
> -"She Looks So Perfect" by 5 Seconds of Summer

Turns out, missing a month of school also includes missing a month of school _work_. 

Wash sighed heavily as he watched Tucker flit around his kitchen, eagerly explaining everything that happened in chemistry while he was gone. The only problem was that it was just _so much_. Wash sighed heavily and shook his head, making Tucker stop mid-lecture. 

“Honey, are you okay? I know its a lot. Do you...do you want me to slow down? Take a break?” Tucker leaned over the island in his small kitchen to gently grasp Wash’s hand.

“You’re great, love,” Wash smiled softly. “Don’t worry, I’m just...getting overwhelmed. Do you...can I borrow your room to just take a nap?”

Tucker stiffened, wincing almost imperceptibly at the movement. “My parents actually don’t want anyone in my room right now. New house rule.”

Wash pursed his lips and shook his head, outwardly making Tucker believe that he was safe in his lie. Honestly, Wash _knew_ that Tucker was hiding something from him. Wash _noticed_ every time Tucker flinched whenever he moved his back. Wash _noticed_ how Tucker refused to give him straight answers to simple questions.

But he could exactly say anything.

He felt like it was his fault--after all, no matter what Tucker proclaimed, Wash knew that he’d lost Tucker’s trust. Why trust Wash with something like being hurt if he couldn’t trust Wash to stay in town?

Wash sighed heavily and shook his head. Maybe he did lose Tucker’s trust, but he’d earn it back.

For now, though...for now Tucker was hiding something from him.

And it was frustrating.

“It’s fine,” Wash breathed out, refocusing on chemistry--well, integrated chemistry and physics. He swept his gaze over the pan of chocolate bars and metal ruler on the countertop before looking up “So what are we going to do here?”

“Well, this is actually kinda advanced physics,” Tucker gave Wash an apologetic look. “But I talked your teacher into giving us half the assignments if I cover more complex topics. Here we are going to use chocolate, heat, and a ruler to calculate the speed of light.”

Wash blinked up at Tucker. “Is this going to be on the test, Mr. Tucker?”

Tucker blushed slightly--part embarrassed, part something that doesn’t need to be over analyzed--and rolled his eyes. “If you mean your exam, yes. I made lesson plans with each of your teachers and they will take into account what I cover with you rather than what you sover with the class and your final will be a slightly abridged version. If you’re being a dick, we don’t have time for that.”

Wash scoffed and shook his head, all the while thinking of what lengths Tucker went to to try and help Wash out. It was incredible, Tucker’s presence and constant support definitely helped even the darkest parts of Wash’s mind believe that he could do _this_.

But then Tucker would go home for the night.

“Thank you, again,” Wash stood and circled the island to lightly kiss Tucker’s forehead--still not ready for too much affection, even from Tucker. “For doing all of this.”

Tucker grinned. “No need, I definitely enjoyed it.”

Wash picked up the tray, and set it in the microwave. "Wait, how long?" 

Tucker flipped to an open page in his spiral notebook, pulling the little pencil from behind his ear.

"Fifteen seconds."

Wash entered the numbers and pressed start, then turned back to his boyfriend.   
"So, how exactly does this work again?" 

Tucker perked up at the prospect of explaining science. "Well-"

But he was cut off by a horrific sound and a flash of light, followed by an awful smell. Wash flinched and ducked, heart racing. He spun around- the microwave was on fire. 

“Okay, that is _not_ supposed to happen!” Tucker scrambled to grab the fire extinguisher next to the dishwasher and fumbled with it before Wash took it from him and sprayed the microwaved down.

“Can you unplug it?” Wash asked whenever the fire started again. Tucker nodded and followed Wash’s directions, both of them staring at the microwave for a bit before letting out a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” Tucker turned to look at Wash with wide eyes before Wash tensed. He mentally went over what he’d done--put the chocolate in the oven, marked eight centimeters with a bag of icing to represent how far apart he figured the heat spots would be and--

Oh no.

“Fuck!” Wash threw the fire extinguisher to the side and looked over the counter frantically, finding the metal ruler that Tucker had let him use missing. “Fuck, Tucker I am so sorry!”

“What?” Tucker asked, confused. He watched, his confused heart twisting almost painfully in his chest as Wash started pacing back and forth and mumbling to himself about ruining everything. He gently stopped Wash by holding his upper arms and stepped in front of him. “Love, what happened?”

“I left the fucking _ruler_ on the pan!” Wash sobbed out as he stared down at Tucker. “I can’t do this! I can’t do all of this work! I’m an idiot, Tucker! I’m not like you or my dad! I don’t soak up knowledge from anything around me! You’re trying so hard to help me but I don’t deserve it!”

Tucker shook his head stubbornly and moved forward to force Wash to look him in the eyes. “Wash, sweetie, you deserve every tiny bit of effort that I have left. You’re so smart--science isn’t for everybody. You write kickass essays and poetry! Your understanding of concepts is beyond me and the reason that you aren’t immediately understand this is because its a hard concept and you aren’t paying attention. You need to relax.

“The other shoe isn’t going to drop, love. You’re safe. You can take your time with this. Yes, it’s a lot, but if you were listening to me then you’d know that I made you a couple of different schedules. I want you to understand that you don’t have to do all of this right now. It’s going to be hard--I’m not trying to say it won’t--but you aren’t doing it alone. I’m here for you, okay? If you’re getting overwhelmed, just talk to me. I know that it’s hard right now--that this feels fragile--but if we’re going to make to work, you’ll need to _talk_ to me.”

“Your microwave--” Wash choked out, but was interrupted by Tucker pulling him forward for a hug.

“It’s just a microwave, love. It’s fine, I promise.”

\-----

His parents finally get home around eleven at night. He cleaned up the kitchen as best he could and threw the microwave away, but he knew that for once they'd notice. The only food they cook themselves is in the microwave. And it's hard to miss the scorch marks on the cabinets above it. 

As if on cue, he hears his mother's cracking shout. 

_"Lavernius!"_

Tucker sighed and set down his book. Of course they say his name for the first time in month just to yell at him. His heart was heavy as he walked down the narrow hall into the kitchen. His mother's eyes were bloodshot and there were needle marks in her arm. His father is sitting at the table with a glass of vodka. An entire glass. Of vodka.

"What the fuck did you ruin now?" She exclaimed. He gritted his teeth.

"I was trying to show a scientific concept to Wash and I accidentally left some metal in the microwave. It was an accident, I'm sorry. I'll work to buy a new one-" He started, trying to keep his voice calm.

His mother's face curled into a scowl. "That fucked up white boy you hang around? He has no business in our house while we aren't here, we thought we drove that message home already!"

Tucker's anger bubbled up to the surface.   
"He's not fucked up, he's my boyfriend, and I love him! You don't have any right to yell at me the way you do, you don't really care about me! So just fuck off, that's all your good at anyway!" 

His mother gaped at him in shock. His father stood, knocking the chair back as he did. His father slapped him. It was a weak slap- wouldn't even leave a mark. For such a big guy, he had no strength. It was still shocking, though.

"How dare you talk to your mother like that! We didn't raise a faggot, let alone one who breaks everything he touches! That boy is not allowed in our house ever again!" He shouted.

Tucker balled his hands into fists. "You didn't raise me at all!" He exclaimed, then spun around and ran to his room, locking the door behind him. He slide down it and wrapped his hands around himself, tears finally welling up in his eyes.

\-----

Wash flicked his lighter, watching as the flame danced and heated the metal. He bit the inside of his cheek and put the cap back on the lighter before putting it down and wrapping his arms around his legs as he sat in the center of his bed that always seemed too large whenever Tucker wasn’t taking ten minutes to cuddle with him.

He tried to convince himself of everything Tucker had told him--that he wasn’t alone, that Tucker wouldn’t give up on him, that it would take work but that he’d have Tucker’s support.

The dark part of him argued that if Tucker--if any of them--knew exactly how screwed up Wash was, they wouldn’t love him.

And, of course, the darker part couldn’t believe that Tucker even loved him. He shouldn’t have written that note. Now, of course, Tucker would feel obligated to be with him. 

The thing was, this wasn’t even Wash overreacting.

Wash _knew_ that Tucker was keeping something from him; they’d moved tutoring sessions from Tucker’s kitchen to a nearby park (“It has nothing to do with the microwave. It’s a scientifically proven fact that you learn better in new environments.”), Tucker couldn’t sit without flinching (“Probably pulled a muscle whenever Sarge was challenging me to a push up contest, I’ll be fine.” “Tucker, that was your excuse two weeks ago.” “...”), and there were times whenever Wash would find Tucker staring out into space with a...terrifying look on his face.

Terrifying because Wash _knew_ that look. He’d _seen_ that look in the mirror. He wasn’t so naive as to think that he was the only one to lose a mother whenever Thena died--or a father after Jason slipped into a coma. He knew that Tucker was hurting just as badly. He wanted to let Tucker know that he was there for him, but...

But the relationship just...it felt so fragile. It felt like he was navigating a minefield and if he stepped on a mine, the explosion would kill both of them.

So he tried to let Tucker know in the little things. Tried to hug him extra tight, kiss him extra sweetly, and speak to him extra gently. He’d even re-given Tucker the jacket, which Tucker accepted with a teary nod and an extra long cuddle session.

Honestly, Tucker had somehow gotten Wash to fall in love with him all over again in the last two weeks. All while having one foot in and one foot out of their relationship.

Wash sighed and picked up the lighter again, contemplating where he should even burn himself--his thighs and calves and hips were covered in still healing burns--whenever he was interrupted by his phone ringing obnoxiously.

Wash frowned and picked it up- it was Church. That couldn't be good.

"Hello?" He asked apprehensively. 

_"WHAT THE FUCK, WASHINGTON?"_ Church's voice screeched over the phone. Wash winced.

"What! I haven't done anything to you!" He exclaimed in a slight panic.

"YOU KNOW THAT JACKET YOU LENT TUCKER?" Church exclaimed.

"What about it?" Wash replied, stiffening in confusion and dread.

"IT FUCKING REEKS OF WEED. HE'S BEEN TRIGGERED AS HELL ALL DAY AND ALMOST TO THE POINT OF CRYING BUT HE STILL WON'T TAKE IT OFF BECAUSE HE THINKS ITS STUPID. YOU'RE THE STUPID ONE. YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER- Oh, hey, Tuck- YEAH I'M YELLING AT HIM, YOU WON'T-" Wash heard Tucker's angry voice and then the line went dead. Wash sat there in shock, then slowly put the phone down. How could he have been so stupid? He was so used to the smell, he hadn't noticed. He'd been trying to be nice.

_Yeah right. It doesn't matter if you try. You're used to the smell because your fucking pathetic. You don't deserve him and he deserves better than you. He probably got in trouble for you over the microwave. He deserves better. Why are you so stupid? Stupid and worthless._

Wash reached the lighter, relishing the feeling of it in his hands.


	13. bearing my punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wash comes clean to an unexpected friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey honey you could be my drug  
> You could be my new prescription  
> Too much could be an overdose  
> All this trash talk make me itching"  
> -"Everybody Talks" by Neon Trees

His hand hesitated just above the door. Damn, this house was big. But he'd come here with a purpose. With a deep breath, he knocked.

A portly old man answered. "How may I help you?"

Wash smiled nervously. "I'm looking for Church? Uh- Leonard Church." 

The man wrinkled his nose. "Right this way." He replied as he stepped aside so Wash could enter the house. If you could call it a house. Church was reclining in an armchair in his bedroom. An armchair. In his bedroom. Church frowned at him when he opened his eyes at the knock.

"The fuck are you doing here? Is Tucker okay?" He asked, sitting up. 

Wash shut the door behind him, throat tight. "Tucker is fine. I...came to ask you something. Tucker mentioned once you- you have scars. Old ones. He says you never talk about it, and I'm not asking you to. But I-" Wash has no idea what to say to explain why he's here.

Church stiffened in his chair, then forced himself to relax.

"This is about the whole burning yourself thing, isn't it? At the bus stop- that wasn't the first time." Church guessed.

Wash nodded, running. A hand through his hair. "The problem is- it wasn't the last, either. I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to be better. I told them I'd be better. They don't even know about this! I was hoping maybe you'd-" The words caught in his throat. 

Church looked away, out the window.   
"There's no magic antidote to being fucked up. But-" He cleared his throat. "It'll be hard, but you should tell Tucker and your aunts. They'll understand. They'll help you. And if you really feel like you need to, rub ice on yourself instead. And just remember that you don't deserve what you do to yourself." He hates how sincere is voice sounds. He's not supposed to care.

Wash nodded. The idea of telling them is scary, but...he huffed a little at the last statement. Church's head whipped around, and his eyes were...unreadable. It was the deepest look he'd ever seen on the apathetic boy. 

"You don't. I told you before and I'll tell you again." Church said softly. "You don't deserve it."

Wash blinked, heart twisted inexplicably with the echo of an emotion he didn't recognize. 

Then Church shrugged as he stood, and crossed the room. He opened the door.

"And don't tell them you came to me first." 

\-----

“So, to find the concentration of a dilated substance, you have to--” Tucker waved his hands about wildly as he continued his lecture. They were situated in Wash’s aunts’ basement, Wash sitting on a plush couch while Tucker paced in front of him, occasionally gesturing towards something on Wash’s paper or the copy of acids and bases that he had projected on the wall.

“Hey, Tucker?” Wash interrupted, causing Tucker to freeze and blink out of science mode to look over at Wash with a curious look on his face. 

“Yeah, love, sorry. Did you have any questions or was it getting too much or--”

“I need to tell you something,” Wash bit his lip and looked down at his lap, fiddling with the long sleeves of one of his dad’s old sweaters. He ignored the dark voices in his mind that he clawing at every sadistically cheerful burn mark demanding to be kept hidden. He ignored the fear of Tucker turning him away--of this being the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He ignored all of that and looked up at Tucker determined.

“Anything,” Tucker answered, crossing the room to sit next to Wash--not so close as to hover, but close enough to enough any needed comfort--and gently closed his hand around Wash’s. “Sweets, you can tell me anything.”

Wash looked down at Tucker and nodded, swallowing thickly. “I uh...I did something bad after our breakup.”

Tucker tensed with concern, but kept his face passive and kind. After a beat had passed of the two of them just staring at each other, Tucker decided to try to prompt his boyfriend. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Wash let out a long breath and leaned back against the couch. “I mean that...did you know that lighter burns look like smiley faces?”

Tucker’s eyes widened in horror, making Wash screw his shut so he wouldn’t have to watch Tucker’s reaction.

“They look like smiley faces which is kinda false advertising. Whenever you burn yourself, you don’t feel happy--you don’t _want_ to feel happy. You want to punish yourself--or the world. I don’t remember why I started,” Wash tacked a lie at the tail end of this, not wanting to make Tucker feel guilty. _Lol, I started cause you broke up with me. Ily <3<3<3_

“Wash,” Tucker whispered.

“I can’t stop,” Wash was almost startled at how small and hoarse his voice came out as. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and waited.

Waited for Tucker to finally realize just how much helping Wash was fighting a losing battle. 

Waited for Tucker to slap him and tell him to snap out of it, to yell at him and tell him how worthless he was. He waited for Tucker’s inevitable rejection, waited until--

Until he felt Tucker’s free hand gently cup the side of his face and brush away the tear.

Wash opened his eyes, but held his breath. Tucker's expression was twisted in pain, concern, and...love. He let his breath out. He held Church's word about how Tucker would understand close to his heart. Leaning into the touch, he glanced down at the couch material between them.

"I...I don't think I can do this alone...." He sighed. Tucker's hand was warm.

"You don't have to. I'm here for you. I'm so sorry this happened, but we'll get through it. Are you- did something go wrong, are you hurt badly? Like an infection?" Tucker asked, voice tight.

Wash shook his head. "No, not yet. Some are still healing, so..."

That meant they were new. How new? Tucker was afraid to ask.

"Do you have bandages on them, so they won't get infected? I'm just worried because- because burns can be lethal if they get infected." The word _burn_ suddenly sticks in Tucker's throat.

Wash shook his head, blinking. "No, Uh. Just keeping them covered always worked for me..." It felt surreal to be having this conversation.

"We should take care of that. If nothing else, to ease my worried heart. There's a really nice first aid kit in your bathroom, actually. How about we...put the lesson on hold?" Tucker suggested. Wash nodded after a moment of hesitation. Tucker took his hand and they walked upstairs in the most awkward silence of Wash's entire life.

Walking into Wash's room makes Tucker's heart race, and not in the good way. It seems so casual. But he can't help but wonder if Wash hurt himself here. Did he lay on the bed while he was inflicting pain on himself? Sit on the floor? In the desk chair? He wonders how many empty, evil lighters he'd find if he went outside and looked through the garbage cans.

"If you want, you can go into the bathroom and I'll tell you what to do through the door. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." Tucker said, turning to Wash.

Wash hesitated. The idea of Tucker seeing his scars- his failure, his stupidity, his pain- made him want to throw up. But something gave him the feeling if he let it all go, things would be better. Maybe it would be easier to breathe.

"You can come in and help me, if you want." Wash said in a small voice. Tucker nodded and they headed into the bathroom. Wash sat down on the toilet lid while Tucker pulled out the first aid kit. He knew how heavy this situation was.

"So, uh...where are they?" Tucker asked.

Wash unzipped his pants instead of replying, and pulled them off. He was wearing boxers, so he didn't really mind. He was comfortable around Tucker, in that sense. He kept his eyes downward so he wouldn't see Tucker's reaction. They weren't just on the inside of his thighs- there were smiley burns, raised lines from heated up bobby pins and safety pins. Circles from putting out joints. Deeper, redder ovals or marred shapes from holding the lighter directly to his skin. They were everywhere, all around his thighs, and down his calls and shins. Glistening in the fluorescent lighting, some fresher and redder than others.

Tucker sucked in a breath. This was not how he pictured seeing Wash without pants on for the first time.

Tucker kneeled in front of Wash, in between his legs, and tried to keep his mind out of the gutter. He opened the first aid kit and looked up at Wash. “Did you already soak these in cool water?”

“Yeah, for about five minutes each. That’s what Google said to do,” Wash shrugged and Tucker nodded. He pulled the aloe vera from the kit and spread the goop over his fingers, rubbing them together to try and warm it.

Tucker spread the gel over the new burns and covered them efficiently before wiping the gel from his fingers. He pursed his lips and took a moment to skirt his fingers over the oldest scars.

“I’m sorry,” Wash whispered, pulling Tucker out of his train of the thought. “I’m sorry that I pushed you away, I’m sorry that I let myself shatter so completely, I’m so sorry--”

Tucker cut Wash off with a brushing kiss again the sensitive scar tissue.

“Thank you for letting me in,” Tucker ignored the apologies and looked up at Wash through his eyelashes. “Thank you for telling me about this--even though I know that it can’t have been easy. Thank you for entertaining my worry. You’re so strong, and you’re allowed to shatter. You’re allowed to fall apart. Thank you so much for letting me be here for you.”

Tears sprung up in Wash's eyes, both at his words and at the gentle kiss. A little mark of love, where there had been so much pain. He felt the tears roll over his eyes and started to sob, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Tucker pressed another kiss to the one on the inside of his leg, next to his knee. He let Wash cry, knowing he needed it. 

"It's okay. Let it out." Tucker said softly, standing up and reaching to brush his fingers through Wash's hair, then moved to his side and pulled him against his torso. Wash curled into the contact, breathing in deep. After a while he calmed down slightly, and looked up at Tucker with an unsteady but loving smile. Tucker forced a smile back.

"Want to go lay down?" Tucker asked.

Wash nodded. Tucker picked up the first aid kit and put it back before they heard back into Wash's room and layed down, face to face. 

"I'm...I don't know what to do." Wash admitted. "I know I should tell my aunts...maybe go to therapy. But it all just seems like so much and when it seems like everything is too much I hate myself for being so pathetic and weak and then I want to burn myself and I-" Wash stopped himself mid ramble and sighed, curling closer.

Tucker was silent for a moment. "Let's take it one step at a time. As for the act itself...maybe you should give me all the-the tools you may use so it'll be harder to be tempted?" He suggested. 

Wash looked up at him. "That's a..an interesting idea. Okay. Let's try it." Wash said, and turned away, grabbing his jeans off the floor and digging through the pockets. He pulled out a lighter and set it on the bed, standing up. Tucker sat up in response, and watched as Wash walked back and forth, pulling lighters and pieces of metal out of the randomest places. Then he would set them down in a little pile next to Tucker, till he was finally sure he'd gotten it all.

Tucker sat cross legged on the bed, staring silently down at the amalgamation of utensils that Wash had used to hurt himself. He hesitantly stood up, and looked around.

"Do you...have a garbage can?" He asked. Wash nodded and pulled the trash bin out from under the desk. 

Tucker took it, and pushed the pile into it. He tied up the bag and stood up. He jerked his thumb towards the door.

"I'm gonna go put this in the van outside, alright? I'll be right back." He explained. Wash nodded as he sat back down on the bed. Wash picked at the bedding, trying not to let his thoughts spiral out of control. 

“So what now?” Wash asked, voice small, whenever Tucker came back into the room and sat next to him on the bed.

“Well...we will have to tell your aunts, but...” Tucker let out a breath and gave Wash a shaky grin. “I think we can put it off for about an hour and have a cuddle break.”

Wash felt tension leak out of his muscles like air out of a balloon as he grinned down at Tucker--a mixture of exasperation and thankfulness playing on his features. “You are remarkable.”

Tucker blushed lightly and wrapped his arms around Wash, pulling him down to lay on the bed together. “Thank you for remarking on it.”

“I’m being serious, Tucker.”

“I am, too,” Tucker pulled away enough to stare up at Wash seriously. “It may not seem like a lot to you, but knowing that I’m helpful to you--that I’m not some useless lump--it helps me manage everything that’s been happening.”

“You’re managing a lot better than I am,” Wash grimaced.

“I’m in denial a lot better than you,” Tucker spoke quietly--as if the confession was a secret. Wash nodded and pulled Tucker closer to his chest.

“You can talk to me about it, you know?” Wash pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Tucker’s head, steadfastly ignoring Tucker’s responding pointed silence.

_I really can’t._

\------

Melinda cupped her hand over her mouth and stared up at Wash and Tucker, horrified. She clutched Angela’s hand as the both of them sat on the couch in the living room, taking in everything Wash had just told them.

“You would...” Angela took a deep breath and squeezed Melinda’s hand entwined with hers. “Do you still have all of the lighters?”

“No, I...Tucker thought it would be best for me to give them to him after I told him,” Wash admitted, licking his lips nervously.

“But...you still have the urge to...?” Angela tried to talk through everything. Wash nodded and squeezed Tucker’s hand for support.

“I was...wondering if maybe...we should look into therapy?” Wash suggested, voice small as he chanced a glance over at his aunts, gaging their reactions.

"Of course. Whatever you need, we'll be there for you. I know a good therapist for this kind of stuff, I'll schedule an appointment if you want. And if you don't like her we can find another until you're comfortable." Angela said, smiling at Wash even though she felt like throwing up.

Wash nodded, then looked down at his lap.  
"I'm sorry-" He said, for the thousandth time. Melinda cut him off by standing up. Angela followed, and they pulled both the boys into a hug. Wash hesitated on instinct, but then let himself fall into the hug. For a second, it seemed like maybe everything would be alright.


	14. calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we have found the chill, silly bastard was hiding in the sink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wanna make out and kiss hard, wait never mind  
> Late night, in passing, mention it flip to her  
> Best friend, it's no thing, maybe it slipped  
> but the slip turns to terror and a crush to like  
> when she walked in he froze up, leave it to fright"  
> -"Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge

It was hot.

Wash’s ceiling fan was on the highest setting and the air conditioning was as low as his aunts could stand. The overheating of Wash’s skin may or may not have had a lot to do with the 120 pounds of always-warm-to-the-touch boyfriend curled into his side or the jeans and heavy sweater that Wash was wearing but he would not let that stop him from complaining.

Because it was _seriously_ hot.

“If you shift one more time, I’m moving.” Tucker mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Wash to hear and chuckle at.

“It’s not _my_ fault your regular body temperature is over 9000,” Wash joked, pulling away from Tucker and sitting up on the couch. The two of them had been cuddling and watching Arrow--or rather, Tucker had been watching while Wash teased him about his crush on Diggle.

Tucker sighed and paused the Apple TV, halting the episode just before Felicity yelled at Oliver for the first time.

“Do you wanna stop cuddling so you don’t have to put up with it?” Tucker asked gently, understanding Wash’s need to keep covered up even in warm weather. Wash shook his head stubbornly and gnawed at his lip before shrugging out of his sweater.

Or, rather, trying to and getting his head stuck.

Tucker snorted and shook his head, looking up at Wash with a teasing look, even though he couldn’t see it. “Need some help?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Wash grumbled, squirming around a bit more before sighing loudly. “Yes.”

Wash almost shivered at the warm touch of Tucker’s gentle fingers--careful against his skin as they pulled the dark red cloth away from Wash, sparing a couple of seconds to run through Wash’s hair and smooth down his uncut bangs.

Wash looked away, not wanting to see Tucker's reaction when his eyes inevitably lead him to the scars on his back, not to mention the lighter scars on his hips and stomach. He swallowed shame as he tossed the sweater aside, and hesitated to lean back into Tucker's embrace. Tucker was silent- maybe he should turn his head and look, get it over with. Tucker had seen the scars on his legs- but those were all self inflicted. The ones on his back added a whole new level of shame. 

Tucker opened his mouth, but he didn't know what he was supposed to say. His eyes traveled over the scars on his boyfriend's back. This was the first time he'd seen them. He hadn't even been allowed to see the wounds at the hospital. God, they were horrible. They must have hurt so much...as if Wash hadn't already been in enough pain. His heart broke and he wanted to kill Kaleb, but he knew that he can't right now. So he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Wash's shoulder. 

Wash finally turned his head to look at his boyfriend, a small, unsteady smile on his face. Tucker leaned up farther to kiss his neck.

"You're so strong." He whispered, almost in awe.

Wash blinked. Of all the things he'd expected Tucker to say, that hadn't been on the list. He turned to fully face Tucker, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him intensely, overcome with the desire to be close to him. Tucker was momentarily surprised, but surged to respond once he caught on. He wrapped his arms around Wash and responded eagerly. After a while, the position was awkward and Wash sank into the couch, pulling Tucker with him. 

Tucker awkwardly scrambled up, and ended up straddling him. Tucker laughed and leaned down to start kissing him again. While he loved kissing Tucker, this position was...it made him feel pinned down. He really didn't feel like using words to try and explain that, so he hooked his arms and knees around Tucker, and rolled/flipped them over so he was the one straddling Tucker. Tucker stared up at him in shock, and his cheeks were tinted red. Wash froze in concern.

"Is this okay?" Maybe flipping them without express consent hadn't been the greatest idea.

Tucker flushed brilliantly and flicked his tongue out to lick his lips before wrapping his arms around Wash and kissing him. He pulled away and smiled brightly up at the blond, "Very okay. Better than okay just...caught me off guard."

Wash pulled away from Tucker’s lips and grinned wickedly at the blush. “You totally love being manhandled, don’t you?”

Tucker blushed harder--if that was at all possible--and opened his mouth to defend himself, but was cut off by Wash roughly pulling Tucker down the couch and capturing his lips. Tucker let out a very manly whimper and relaxed under Wash, earning a playful nip against his lips.

“Not fair,” Tucker whined against Wash’s lips, Wash took the opportunity to force his tongue into Tucker’s mouth and map out his teeth and cheeks. He brought one hand up to cradle to back of Tucker’s head and thread his fingers through the dreads. He pulled Tucker’s head closer to his, keeping it just far enough up that his neck would be sore if they stayed like this for too long.

Tucker tightened his arms around Wash’s neck and kissed back as well as he could from this angle. He brought his legs up, framing Wash’s hips with his knees and surging upwards to press his clothed torso against Wash’s bare chest. Wash groaned against Tucker’s lips and skirted his free hand down his side to hold Tucker’s thigh, pulling it closer.

Tucker pulled away to gasp for air, moaning like a slut whenever Wash moved down from his lips to kiss his neck. “Wash--”

Wash tensed a bit, unexpectedly loving the way Tucker said his name like that. He bit down and relished in the resulting wriggling and curse words. He sucked a hickey into Tucker’s neck, pulling away to take in his masterpiece. 

And frowning at how barely-noticeable the bruise was against Tucker’s dark skin.

“Wash,” Tucker protested the lack of Wash’s lips on his sensitive neck as he blinked lazily up at his boyfriend. “What--”

Wash brushed a gentle kiss to Tucker’s lips, kindly shutting the other teenager up before trailing the barely-there kisses down his throat until he got back to the mark. He bit the mark as harshly as he dared before sucking hard. Tucker whined and buried one of his hands in Wash’s hair, pulling it hard as he writhed underneath Wash.

Wash pulled away and grinned at Tucker like he was his prey before surging up to kiss him hard--

\--and freezing at the feeling of small foil packets raining down on them from above.

Wash rolled off Tucker in a panic, and ended up on the floor in a heap. Melinda was cackling, still holding a few of the condoms in her hands. Angela craned over her shoulder with a concerned expression.

Wash felt like his face was going to heat up so much it would melt and slide into the floor. Tucker sat up, looking mortified and covered in condoms.

"Uh, thanks?" Tucker said in a slightly squeaky voice.

"While we'd appreciate abstinence, we understand you're both almost eighteen and love each other so as long as you're safe and discreet we won't interfere that much. If you ever need anything, we, your wonderful and loving aunts, will always be here with advice. Like sex gurus! Actually, no, not like that. Nevermind." Melinda frowned, now blushing herself.

Wash just stared up at them, and nodded dumbly. He wished he could sink into the carpet. Oh god, they were being so nice...but it was so awkward, holy shit....what had he been thinking? Holy shit, they'd been practically grinding on each other and it hasn't even occurred to him. Now he felt like he'd had a bucket of ice water thrown on him. Melinda and Angela had turned to look at him- no, no, no- they couldn't see him shirtless! Fuck, he wasn't ready for their pity. He bolted up and raced out the door at the speed of light. 

All their faces fell as they watched Wash run away from them.  
"Oh no, do you think we went too far? Maybe I shouldn't have teased him- Stupid Melinda, tease a trauma victim about sex..." Melinda started to wring her hands, dropping the condone as she stepped towards the door. Angela put a hand on her shoulder. 

"It's not your fault. Go talk to him, I'm sure it will be alright." Angela suggested. Tucker sat up, trying to banish his arousal. _(Not now, boner.)_ Melinda headed down the hallway as Angela and Tucker hung back, peering out from the doorway. 

Melinda rose her hand to knock on the door, but never got the chance. Wash opened the door, and blinked at them. He pointed at the tank top he said was wearing and smiled.

"Sorry, had to grab a shirt. So, what's for dinner?" He asked brightly. Melinda relaxed, and decided not to comment on the fact it was the first time she'd seen Wash wear a tank top. 

“Progress?” Melinda asked quietly, giving Wash a hopeful smile that could make flowers bloom in the middle of winter.

Wash smiled shyly up at her, not for the first time seeing the shocking similarities to his mother’s face.

But definitely for the first time not resenting it.

“Yeah,” He peeked over her shoulder, where the sounds of Angela and Tucker were coming from. “Progress.”


	15. to be happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first, I'd like to point out that this chapter is happening months after the others
> 
> second, I'd like to apologize because our chill ran away during a brain storm session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes to neatly sum up what’s happened that day. Sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you feel like you failed. Did it need to end that way? Could something have been done to prevent the tragedy in the first place?"  
> -"Criminal Minds"

Wash laughed at Tucker's joke, air pillowing out into the cold night air. He didn't mind- Tucker's hand was warm. They'd just got back from a celebratory birthday date. School was over, he'd passed his classes, and his aunts had thrown him a great birthday party. It had been...well, he'd tried to act as upbeat as possible. They hadn't bought it, and they all ended up having a movie night with cake instead. It was hard to act upbeat when your mother was dead and your father was in a coma for your birthday. But the date had...lifted his spirits more than he'd expected.

"That was probably our best date yet." He said happily. Tucker quirked an eyebrow. 

"Are you keeping track?" He asked.

Wash shrugged. "Maybe."

Tucker rolled his eyes as they walked down the dark street towards his house. "I guess I'll have to think up something even better next time. Gotta live up to my reputation."

The night was dark- it was almost midnight. It felt like they were the only ones alive. It was a peaceful feeling, really.

“You’re so lame, who the hell says shit like that?” Wash laughed lightly, gently squeezing Tucker’s hand before letting it go at the warning look. After a certain point, even Wash knew that it could be potentially dangerous for them to hold hands in this neighborhood. The gangs here didn’t exactly have reputations of open mindedness and acceptance. 

“Are sure you wanna go back to your house?” Wash asked a bit nervously, watching as undeterminable emotions cloud Tucker’s face before a forced grin settled.

“You act like I’ll go home and my parents will murder me or something,” Tucker laughed and turned his face to smiled up at Wash disarmingly. “Still, it _is_ a gentlemanly thing for you do to do--walking me home like this.”

“Maybe I just like spending time with you.”

“And _you_ call _me_ lame?” Tucker opened his mouth to say something more--probably teasing or sarcastic, honestly--but stilled at the feeling of cool metal pressed against his neck.

He looked at Wash--who had blushed and looked away and had yet to notice the newcomer--before flickering his eyelids closed. _Why couldn’t things just be easy?_

Wash frowned whenever Tucker didn’t continue with the teasing the way that he knew his boyfriend usually would and turned to question him before coming face to face with--

_Oh fuckberries._

Wash felt frozen in his tracks as Kaleb smiled down at him, eyes slightly off kilter. 

"Hello, David."

Oh god, oh god, oh god. He couldn't move. The court had ordered a restraining order, why was Kaleb here? 

Tucker moved first, shoving Wash away from Kaleb just as Kaleb raised his hand to do something. Instead, Kaleb grabbed Tucker and yanked him back. Before Wash could blink, Tucker had a knife to his throat. 

"Oh, fuck me...this is such bullshit..." Tucker groaned, but didn't dare move.

"Don't hurt him!" Wash finally snapped out of his shock. This was like one of his nightmares.

"I won't. If you play along. Do what I say like you're supposed to, got that, Wash?" Kaleb said, still smiling. Oh god, it was the same creepy smile he'd had when he'd- when he'd raped Claire. Wash's heart was hammering in his chest, and he nodded. 

"Okay. Whatever you want."

"Don't- just run, Wash, fucking hell-" Tucker exclaimed, but the knife pressed closer to his throat and he shut up. He rolled his eyes- god, this was so cliche.

"Let's start walking, shall we?" 

“This is fucking low, even for you,” Wash growled as he started walking towards Kaleb’s specified direction, watching in horror as Tucker shuffled in front of Kaleb.

“Shut the fuck up,” Kaleb growled, pressing the blade just that much more against Tucker’s throat--just enough to scratch the skin and earning a thin stream of blood that rolled from the cut, down Tucker’s neck, pooled slightly at his collar bone, and trickled down to be absorbed by the cotton material of his t-shirt. “Or I will gut your favorite nigger.”

“Low. Fucking. Blow.” Tucker growled, hands shaking in terror and eyes shut tightly to try and block out the unforgiving _realness_ of this situation. The scratch on his throat itched. The metal was cool against his skin and Kaleb’s hand on his shoulder was too warm and friendly in comparison.

God, he felt like he was gonna puke.

“Wash, just--” He gulped and cursed himself whenever the action cause the blade to scrape against his adam’s apple more insistently. “I love you, okay? Don’t get hurt for me just...just leave. Run. Call the police. I love you, please don’t your _life_ another fucking thing I screw up, Wash, please--”

“Shut up!” Wash choked out, the sight of tears running down Tucker’s face was like a sucker punch to his emotions. “If you think that I could leave you, we are having a serious conversion whenever this is over and we’re both okay, understand?”

“As touching as that was,” Kaleb growled as he turned Tucker to shield his side from Wash so that he could kick in the door of an abandoned house about two blocks up from Tucker’s, “I’m gonna have to ask you two fags to put a sock in it if you want black beauty to keep living through the next hour.”

Wash clenched his mouth shut and hesitantly followed Kaleb inside. God, this was bad. 

"Lock it behind you, then throw the key out the window." Kaleb instructed, jerking his head towards a key sitting on the windowsill. Wash obeyed, hands shaking as he locked the door. He walked to the window, and hesitated. An intake of breath from Tucker alerted him that the knife was being pressed closer, so he tossed it. 

"Damn..." Tucker muttered under his breath. Kaleb started to drag him down the hallway. Wash followed, blood on Tucker's collar making him want to throw up.

They ended up in a broken down room, with mold sinking the corner of the floor down and holes in the drywall. 

Kaleb let Tucker go and sent him sprawling to the floor. Wash balled his hands into fists and took a step forward, ready to jump him even if he felt like crying.

Then, before Tucker could even get up, Kaleb raised his foot and brought it crashing down on Tucker's leg, below the knee. A loud, wet crack resonated and Tucker screamed, collapsing back down to the floor. Wash jerked back in shock. Holy shit, did he just break his leg?

"FUCK YOU!" Tucker exclaimed in agony. Kaleb shook his head as he turned to Wash. Wash stared down at Tucker in concern, then whipped his head up to look at Kaleb. A righteous fury burned under his skin. Tucker was everything to him- all he had left- and this monster was so intent on ruining everything good in his life. 

Kaleb stepped forward, and ran the knife lightly down his jaw. Wash didn't flinch.

"Get on your knees, or I'll stomp on his neck next." Kaleb told him lowly. And Wash knew he wasn't bluffing, not one bit. Tucker was cursing and struggling to sit up, but Wash didn't listen. He slowly got down on his knees in front of Kaleb, bile rising in his throat. 

"Wash, don't," Tucker choked out, pain shooting through his leg as he subconsciously tried to stand.

"Tucker, for once in your goddamn life, I am going to make you _wish_ that you were invisible," Kaleb growled before turning his attention back to Wash. "That is, once I'm finished with your little boyfriend."

Wash glared up at Kaleb defiantly. He may be forced to bend to Kaleb's will, but he'd never-- _ever_ \--do it cheerfully. 

He was torn from his rebellious thoughts by the sound of a zipper. His heart skipped a beat in terror. Holy shit, this couldn't be happening- was he hard? Of course he was hard, he got off on hurting people.

Wash jerked backwards in fear, out of instinct. Kaleb responded by slicing the knife down his cheek and jaw. He cursed, ripping his head to the side and reaching up to feel his face- blood.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He exclaimed angrily, fear beginning to fade into rage.

"You are." Kaleb responded in a growl, reaching down and burying his fist in Wash's hair, tugging him forward painfully towards the erect and menacing cock in front of him. 

"If you'd rather I fuck Tucker's mouth first, I'll gladly switch-" Kaleb began to say, but was cut off my Wash giving in and opening his mouth hesitantly. Kaleb laughed in triumph and shoved himself inside Wash's mouth. Tucker started cursing with more vigor and trying to drag himself forward, only to cry out in anger and pain.

Wash squeezed his eyes closed and brought a hand to brace against Kaleb's thigh. Kaleb was thrusting into his mouth brutally, he couldn't breathe. On instinct he tried to open his mouth wider.

"That's right. This is all your good for, take it like a real slut." Kaleb laughed. Wash wanted to cry, he wanted to scream- it hurt so bad and it was violating him, he still couldn't breathe. Those where the exact same words he'd heard Kaleb tell Claire when he was raping her.

God, this couldn't be happening! He didn't want Kaleb to come down his throat, he wouldn't be able to stand it-

Through the haze of humiliation and pain, he heard Tucker sobbing in pain as he struggled to stand up. He was still trying to get up, to stop Kaleb. It made Wash insanely angry again- he'd broken Tucker’s leg! He'd be in pain for God knows how long! Threatened both their life's, shoved his dirty fucking cock down Wash's throat. 

Wash was done. He was done. Done being hurt, done getting people hurt, done hurting people. At least, people who didn't deserve it. Wash bit down on Kaleb's cock as hard as he could, then ripped back away. Kaleb screamed in pain and ripped some of Wash's hair out. His dick was now soft and bleeding, and Wash could taste blood in his mouth. Kaleb glared at him with fire in his eyes.

"You little bitch!" He screamed.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Wash screamed back, lunging forward and punching Kaleb in the gut as hard as he could. Then he kicked him in the shin and brought his elbow down on the back of his bent over head. 

Wash couldn’t remember much after that.

He remembered the sirens and flashing lights. He remembered how he had shoved the knife into Kaleb’s thigh and ran over to Tucker. He remember trying to help Tucker stand and Tucker literally passing out from the pain in his leg.

He didn’t remember the way the SWAT team busted in, didn’t remember the scramble to stop Kaleb from bleeding out, didn’t remember the way the police had ignored him and Tucker at first.

He remembered the metallic taste of Kaleb’s blood in his mouth. He remembered hauling Tucker’s limp and bleeding body to an ambulance. He remembered puking a mix of Italian food and blood that wasn’t his into a metal bucket whenever Tucker woke up briefly--screaming Kaleb’s name--before being drugged.

He didn’t remember Angela and Melinda waiting for them at the hospital. He didn’t remember the scramble to contact Tucker’s parents for health information. He didn’t remember numbly answering every question that the doctor had asked him perfectly.

He remembered screaming whenever they denied him access to Tucker’s surgery room.

He didn’t remember getting the cut on his cheek bandaged.

He remembered brushing his teeth 13 times with a hospital provided toothbrush.

He didn’t remember how the bristles were stained with blood.

He remembered how his teeth were stained.

He didn’t remember the way he had shut down for hours while Tucker was in surgery.

He remembered sitting in a light yellow room in a dark pink plastic chair next to a white hospital bed with Tucker’s dark brown hand enveloped in both of his. He remembered staring at Tucker’s face while he slept off the drugs--twisted in pain from his leg and what was no doubt a nightmare. He remembered the feeling of hot tears landing on his pale hands, remembered how guilty he felt for crying whenever this was his fault.

This was all his fault.

He remembered the hushed voices of Tucker’s doctor discussing the extent of his injuries with Melinda and Angela. 

(He didn’t remember how he couldn’t even find enough energy to be pissed that Tucker’s parents had once again disappeared.)

“Honestly, the broken fibula and tibia should heal nicely in the next four months. It was a pretty clean break and if we can keep him free of infection, it should be fine--same with the cut on his throat. What worries me is the fact that he hasn’t woken up. The mind--it’s a fragile thing. There are cases where it’ll go into a coma-like state to protect itself.”

“And even if he does wake up, Mrs. Washingtons, I’m afraid of what his mental state might be.”

Oh, God. Another person gone to a coma. His dad was still in a coma, in this very hospital. He can't lose Tucker too. He won't let Melinda and Angela even think about taking Jason off the plug, he doesn't care how long it takes. He visits him every sunday, without fail. 

It's not his fault that his father is in this hospital, but it is his fault that Tucker is. God, how could he have been so stupid to think he could be safe, be happy?

He should have listened to Kaleb, should have done what he wanted. Tucker would have been angry and disgusted with him, but he wouldn't have gotten his fucking leg broken and passed out from agony. He squeezed Tucker's hand and hunched over, squeezing his eyes shut to try and keep the tears inside. He didn't deserve to cry. He deserved pain, not Tucker. 

He deserved whips and fists and cocks and fire forcing their pain into him, not Tucker. He should have- his downward spiral of thoughts is suddenly interrupted by a hand in his hair. He jerked up, and stared at Tucker. His eyes were open, and he was furrowing his brows in concern over Wash. Not concern over the fact he was in the hospital, oh no, concern that Wash was crying. God, this boy was selfless. To a fault.

"Tucker? How are you feeling?" Wash asked, scooting the chair closer. Tucker squeezed the hand he was holding, and squinted down at his leg in a cast.

"Doesn't hurt anymore. Tired, mostly. Shit, how'd we get here, the last thing I remember-" Tucker started out taking groggily, but then his eyes shot open and his head whipped around to look over Wash. 

"Oh my god, did he- did he force you, I can't remember? Oh my god, Wash, I'm so sorry, I should have stopped him-" Tucker inspected him for injuries or evidence of apparent rape. Wash's heart twisted again. Selfless to a fault. He took one hand and reached up to cup Tucker's jaw, drawing his eyes back to him.

"Nothing happened. He tried to get me to suck him off, I tried to bite his dick off and stabbed him in the leg, then the SWAT showed up. Apparently, someone saw us walking out their window with him, and called the cops. Besides even if- even if he had, there as nothing you could have done. That's why he hurt you, so he could get to me. God, it's going to take so long to heal, I'm so sorry...you deserve better than people who don't appreciate you. You also deserve better than people that keep getting you hurt, I'm sorr-" Wash's throat was tight as he spoke, before Tucker cut him off.

"If you apologize one more time I'll sock you in the nose, love. Wasn't your fault and it wasn't mine, okay? Don't blame yourself. Besides, it won't even hurt that bad." Tucker said, squeezing his hand. Wash opened his mouth to protest, but was again cut off by the sound of a choked sob. Melinda ran forward to Tucker's bedside, looking over him and leaning to kiss him on the forehead.

"Oh sweetie, we were so worried! Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She asked. Tucker blinked at her, momentarily shocked. It occurred to Wash why he was shocked an adult would show so much concern over him, and it made him sick.

"Uh, no. I'm okay. Thank you. But- is that asshole still out there? I'd rather not look over my shoulder after this." Tucker asked dryly.

Melinda shook her head as Angela came to stand next to Wash. 

"No, he's been officially arrested with no bail. You can come home with us tonight, Claire is coming to make sure everything goes well so they're releasing you early."

Wash's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Claire. To be perfectly honest, he'd been avoiding her. The guilt was too much. But he supposed that had to end at some point.

Tucker nodded, relaxing back into the sheets. "Sounds good. Thank you, for everything." 

Angela smiled. "Anytime and always, sweetie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see, I'd say that I'm sorry....


	16. it's not just something you take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chill is gone, but the pills might be helping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Not really sure how to feel about it.  
> Something in the way you move  
> Makes me feel like I can't live without you.  
> It takes me all the way.  
> I want you to stay
> 
> It's not much of a life you're living  
> It's not just something you take–it's given"  
> -"Stay" by Rihanna

Tucker was frustrated. He was frustrated that the hospital room smelled so intensively of disinfectant that it had clung to his clothes, he was frustrated that Angela had _insisted_ on wheeling him out--in a fucking _wheelchair_ , and most of all he was frustrated with the stupid goddamn crutches that _were broken or some shit because there was no way he was **this** fucking uncoordinated_.

Tucker sighed angrily and took a deep breath.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit of a lie. Maybe he was taking out his frustrations on the crutches. Maybe he was just the slightest bit frustrated that he had a broken leg and his boyfriend was too busy having a downward spiral and avoiding Claire to even fucking notice.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t even fair. He shouldn’t be mad at Wash. Tucker just...really wouldn’t be able to handle Wash pulling away again. He swung the crutches out in front of him and ever so gracefully made his way into Wash’s kitchen before fiddling with the coffeemaker. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and exhaustion and pain meds had hit him full force.

Not to mention, caffeine would be grand for his headache right about now.

He poured himself a mug before jumping out of his skin whenever a calloused and freckled pale hand grabbed the pot and mug from him.

“You’re not supposed to have any caffeine while you’re on your meds, Tucker, you know this.” Wash raised on eyebrow at his boyfriend as the shorter teenager sluggishly blinked up at him.

“Come on, _seriously_!?” Tucker whined once he realized what was going on. It was a goddamn mutiny. “No fucking way--do you have a fucking ‘Tucker-is-breaking-the-rules’ radar on me!?”

Wash graced Tucker with a small smile before it turned dark, “I’d rather not be responsible for anything else being wrong with you.”

Tucker rolled his eyes before shutting them and shaking his head. He opened them to glare up at Wash before speaking in a low tone, “Wash, we really need to talk.”

Wash froze. Oh, no. He should have expected this. He’d tried to convince himself that he was overthinking it and it would be okay, he tried to convince himself he’d be able to make it up to Tucker. Here it came, the talk. What would he say? _It’s not you it’s me?_ _I just have to focus on getting better?_

Tucker was certainly the type to try and be nice during a breakup. Although, he seemed pretty pissed off right now. Oh, god, he deserved this, he didn’t deserve Tucker. He gulped and nodded, entrapped in Tucker’s gaze.

 

“Yeah?” 

Tucker took a deep breath. “I can’t- I won’t be able to handle it if you pull away again, do you understand? I know that a lot is happening and it’s nobody’s fault besides Kaleb’s, okay? Don’t go spiraling down thinking it’s all your fault, ‘cause it’s not and that’s not gonna help anybody.” Tucker sighed again, and leaned more against the counter.

“Just remember, pulling away won’t help anybody even if you think it will. We’ll get through this together, okay? I need you and I want you to know it’s okay to need me, too. I mean, my leg doesn’t even hurt that bad, okay?” Tucker tried to lighten his words near the end. 

Oh. Wash hadn’t expected this, but he should have. He bit his lip, and shook his head.   
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m trying. But- you shouldn’t lie. It does hurt and we both know it.” Wash said, trying to keep the tension out of his shoulders. He ran one hand through his hair and with the other hand he rubbed the edge of his thumb against the inside of his index finger over and over. 

“You’re doing that thing,” Tucker observed quietly, leaning his weight onto one crutch while bring his other hand out grabbing Wash’s. “You probably don’t even notice whenever you’re doing it, but Angela does. She said...it’s a tell. Like in poker, you know? This is your tell for whenever you’re feeling so miserable that you want to burn yourself.”

Wash stared at Tucker, then down at his hand. He opened his mouth to tell him not to worry, that he was strong enough to resist. Then he shut his mouth before the lie could leave, and swallowed. He kept looking down at the way Tucker was holding his hand instead of making eye contact.

"I'm sorry." 

“Sweetums, I didn’t point that out to make you feel worse,” Tucker leaned more on the crutch and started rubbing his thumb over Wash’s knuckles comfortingly. He looked up at Wash pleadingly, even as Wash wouldn’t even look at his face. “I pointed it out so that you would talk to me.”

Wash nodded slightly and took a step forward, wanting to ease that strain to Tucker that was holding hands. He chances a glance upward and found the same worried and sad and scared eyes waiting for him that were there the night after he had disappeared. It almost felt like a dream, the intense feeling of deja vu.

“I wasn’t going to. Hell, I even did the ice instead of it but I just feel so...terrible that you got hurt because of me--” Wash told Tucker honestly, whispering as tears began to pool in his eyes.

Tucker looked up at Wash with an exasperated face, “Wash, please. Were you the one who kicked my leg?”

“No, but--”

“Were you the one who put a knife to my throat?”

“Not, but, Tucker--”

“Or were you the only one who was there whenever I woke up in a hospital?” Tucker asked him, eyes soft even as dark shadows of aching hurt echoed behind them.

“Tucker…” Wash sighed softly and shook his head. He turned to look away, but Tucker tugged on their hands to get his attention.

“Hey, if you don’t answer, I will. You were the one who I woke up to. You were the one who fought so hard to save us. You were the one who waited for hours while I was in surgery. You were there for me whenever no one else was. I love you, and I don’t want you to go one thinking that this is your fault. If you it’s what you need, sweets, I’ll give you forgiveness. I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault, but I’ll forgive you. Just, whatever you need to do, don’t hurt yourself. And--this one is out of pure selfishness--but please do not pull away from me again because I don’t think I could handle it.”

Wash’s mouth dropped open a bit as he took in everything Tucker said to him. He nodded while choking back tears and stepped forward to hug Tucker, carefully maneuvering his arms under Tucker’s to take his weight and relishing in the sound of the crutches falling down.

“You’re gonna have to get those, you know,” Tucker grinned into Wash’s hair and kissed his neck gently, basking in the glory of Wash’s hugs.

Wash chuckled quietly and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

“For this? You can pick up things for me all of the time.”

“And you ruined it by being a dick.”

“I am sorry, though,” Tucker admitted, pulling away a bit to look up at Wash. “I need physical therapy and it’ll be a while before I’m even able to take the cast off and I’m not sure in what capacity I’ll be able to be there for you. I’m sorry that, given our current situations, I’m not sure how to help you, but I want to.”

“Make that the both of us, then,” Wash decided, nodding down at Tucker’s leg, “I want to help you with everything but every time I see you struggle because of the leg I…”

Tucker nodded and gnawed on his lip before looking up at Wash. “What about Church?”

Wash blinked. "Do you think he would even want to help? He doesn't like me very much... I think. It's hard to tell."

Tucker cracked a smile. "He doesn't hate you, don't worry. He just pretends like he hates everyone. He tried to convince me that he found you that night by accident, as if he normally hangs around bus stops at nights. He's about as emotionally stunted as it gets, but he knows more about this...this problem than I do." 

Wash already knew this, but Church had said not to tell them he'd gone to Church first first, so he just nodded. "Okay, if you think that's the best idea."

Tucker pecked him on the lips. "It'll be okay, don't worry."


	17. in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "implied" *snorts*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Simmer down, simmer down  
> They say we're too young now to amount to anything else  
> But look around  
> We work too damn hard for this just to give it up now  
> If you don't swim, you'll drown  
> But don't move, honey"  
> -"She Looks So Perfect" by 5SOS

Wash's hand, not for the first time, hesitated above the door of Church's home. 

"The door isn't gonna bite, Wash." Tucker attempted to joke behind him. Wash rolled his eyes and went to knock on the door, but was cut off by it being opened. A man with a neck beard blinked at them, then walked around them. The butler ran after him.

"Give the boy however much his wants for his allowance. I'll be gone for a month in Tokyo, make sure the cleaning ladies don't steal the soap again." The man instructed the butler.

The butler nodded and the guy got in the back of a car and left.

"Was that his dad?" Wash asked. Tucker had a dark expression, glaring after the car as it left. "Yeah. Dickbag Extraordinaire." 

"Leonard is in his room, I'm sure you know the way." The butler said pointedly to Tucker, then flounced off. Wash snorted and let Tucker walk in front, ready to help him if he needed it.

Church was more than a little surprised to see them.

"You could call first, that guy didn't break your fingers, did he?" Church asked in exasperation, in just boxers in his bed with an angry expression. 

“Bro, not even in the same _realm_ as okay.” Tucker drawled easily as he plopped down into an impossibly plush beanbag as if Church being shirtless and just in his underwear was a natural occurrence. Wash looked between the two and couldn’t help the stab of jealousy at how familiar they were with each other.

“So why the fuck are you two here?” Church asked.

“To make your life that much more difficult, sweet cheeks,” Tucker took his phone out and started scrolling down his Twitter feed. Church scoffed and reached forward to grab Tucker’s phone.

“Answer me, nitwit!” Church growled before Wash stepped forward to plucked the phone from his hands to give it back to Tucker.

“We’re here because I need your help.” Wash explained as Tucker made a happy noise at getting his device back. Wash crossed his arms and stood in between the friends to raise an eyebrow at Church’s apathetic face.

“With what?” Church’s face flashed briefly with a concerned expression before it relaxed again into a blank, unreadable expression.

“With controlling my...my urges to...burn myself,” Wash swallowed thickly but refused to break eye contact as Church stared straight at him.

“...sounds like a plan.” Church nodded. 

God, this is awkward. Wash finally looked away, casting his eyes to the side. “All- all the things they tell you to do, like ice and markers and stuff and breathing- none of it’s working.”

“Sounds like a mental problem, dude.” Church drawled, sitting up straighter. Tucker and Wash both whipped to glare at him, but he just waved a hand dismissively, and they got glances of the rows of old scars up his arms. 

“Nah, nah, not like that. I’m not qualified. I mean, like, you still have so many issues and stuff pent up in your head that nothing’s gonna get through to you but the burn. Gotta relieve all that tension before you can wean yourself down to a state of pseudo grace.” Church explained in a passive tone as he stood and fumbled around for his shirt. 

“I did not understand a word of that.” Wash snapped. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll do the same thing Tucker did for me. He probably forgot, it may have been overshadowed by me being an asshole.” Church stated as he stood up. Tucker’s eyes widened.

“I remember, I just didn’t know if it would work with Wash…” He looked away.

“Yeah, yeah, sensitive situation, you’re worried he’ll reject you again if you fuck up with helping him not be fucked up.” Church shrugged, and plopped down on the couch, and gestured to the foot of the bed. “Sit across from me, Human Torch. ‘Bout to blow your fucking mind.” 

Wash blinked, trying to figure out if he was insulted or not before shaking his head and sitting on the bed. Church rolled his head to look at Tucker next to him. 

“You know better than anyone that this has the potential to get reaaaall personal. I’ll let you decide amongst your gay as fuck selves if you want Tucker to stay here for it.” Church told them. then turned to pick at his nails. Wash glanced towards Tucker, unsure. 

“I’ll go chill in the game room if you want. I don’t want to...hear anything about you you don’t want me to hear.” Tucker was quick to assure him. Wash shook his head in response.

“No, I think I’d be more comfortable with you here.” Wash told him. Tucker relaxed back into the bean bag.

Church clapped his hands together. “Alright! Now, here’s how this works. Pretend I’m you. Starry eyed, freckles, hideous undercut. Tell me who you are, who I am.”

“I uh…” Wash looked around back at Tucker before looking back at Church who looked at him expectantly. “You are...David Washington. You’re seventee-eighteen years old. You live with your two aunts, Melinda and Angela, because your...your mother, Thena, is dead and your father has been in a coma for almost a year. You were...abused physically and under the threat of sexually as well by your uncle Kaleb who you once trusted.”

Church nodded and blinked up at Wash after he stopped. “Okay, but what would make ‘me’ who ‘I’ am?”

Wash blew out a long breath and turned away to look at Church’s window. “You couldn’t...you could never stop him--Kaleb. He hurt people over and over while you were helpless. He hurt your boyfriend and you just watched--”

“But ‘I’ didn’t,” Church shook his head and stared hard at Wash with an expression akin to empathy and determination. “‘I’ fought back. ‘I’ bit off his dick. ‘I’ sacrificed my own safety because he hurt ‘my’ boyfriend.”

Wash shook his head. “I was a coward! I shouldn’t have been around Tucker in the first place to put him in danger!”

“You love him, he loves you.”

“Of course I love him! He means everything to me! But being around me--”

“Makes him happy.”

“--puts him in danger!”

“So what would’ve been the solution?” Church raised an eyebrow at Wash. “Let’s say that that’s correct and that Tucker is in invalid with no say in your relationship. How could you have protected him?”

“I could’ve stayed away.” Wash declared, voice strong with conviction.

“But didn’t you try that?” Church asked not unkindly, taking the way Wash tensed up as answer enough. “By definition of that plan, you weren’t there to see its effects, but they weren’t pretty. He hated himself because he couldn’t hate you. He got into useless fights and for a while told himself that you would come back. Then, one day, he stopped wearing your jacket and became basically mute. He didn’t deserve that pain. If you had stayed away--if he had never pushed himself onto you after you came back--it would’ve never gotten better. In protecting him, you would’ve hurt him.”

Wash’s mouth opened slightly as he turned to look at Tucker, who was suddenly very interested in his phone.

“Be he would’ve been safe--”

“Except for the fights. And that he suddenly didn’t have a sanctuary whenever his parents would throw parties. And that he didn’t exactly want to be safe,” Church countered.

“So...being with me...not being with me...either way, he’d get hurt?” Wash turned to look at Church pleadingly.

“Yeah,” Church nodded. “But whenever he’s with you, he has someone to trust and protect him. Maybe not from everything. But from everything that you _can_. And you’ll have someone who can protect you.”

Wash felt like he was going to cry. It seemed so simple whenever Church said it like that. But it wasn’t, and truth rarely was. “Unless I never got together with him and--”

“Shut up.” Tucker interrupted harshly. “I don’t regret any of that and I might think that you do if you continue like that. Not cool.”

Church scowled at Tucker. “Hey, moron, I’m working here.”

“Go fuck a psychology book.”

“How ‘bout I fuck you instead? All of your issues are all I’d need to know,” Church shot back. There was a beat before Wash heard Tucker go back to his game and saw the small smiles on both of their faces. “But that is a good question, Wash. Do you regret it? Am ‘I’ someone who regrets?”

Wash opened his mouth, glancing between the two of them. He felt trapped between a rock and a hard place, the urge to run away overcoming him, so he dug his fingers into his thighs. He can't run away, he isn't allowed to run away.

"You-I regret a lot of things." He stammered, throat tight. 

"What are some of the things you regret?"

"Telling the truth." Came out of his mouth before he knew it, and he winced. 

"About what? Why on earth would 'I' regret telling the truth? Isn't honesty the best policy? What do 'I' regret telling the truth about?" Church asked, and Tucker pretended to be looking at his phone again.

Wash opened his mouth- he should see this through, he should respond. But then he stood up. 

"I don't think this was a good idea." He announces. The urge to burn himself had only increased, and now he's stuck himself in a corner and he just knows if he tells the truth about this Tucker's heart is gonna break and Church will have confirmation that he is _beyond_ fucked up.

Tucker stood, with the intention of telling Wash that he didn't have to do anything he wasn't comfortable with, but Church put a hand on his shoulder. Church's eyes where more serious than he'd ever seen them. 

"Your tense. Whatever it is you don't want to say, it's a big part of the reason you want to burn yourself. If you keep it inside it'll just get worse. Let it out, c’mon- what do I regret telling the truth about?" Church demanded in a low voice. Tucker looked concerned, but didn't move to contradict what Church was saying.

Wash knew he was right. And he hated it. A moment of frozen silence, and then his mouth began to move. As the word came out he wanted to curl in on himself, but didn’t.

"Kaleb." He admitted, frozen still by Church's intent gaze. The atmosphere of the room shifted.

"I regret telling the truth...about Kaleb?" Church reiterated slowly, trying to grasp the profound and frankly disturbing meaning behind the statement.

Something seemed to snap, and Wash threw his hands in the air.

"Yeah, you do. There it is. Is that what you wanted to know about _yourself?_ " He exclaimed. 

Church frowned. "Dude, calm down, I'm just trying to help-"

"I know! I'm not mad at you you I’m mad at me you, isn't that the point of this exercise? I'm angry. All the time. I'm not angry at that drunk driver, I'm not angry at Kaleb, I'm not angry at my aunts and I'm not angry with Tucker and I'm not angry with you. I never was. Ever. I'm still not angry with Kaleb no matter how hard I try I'm just angry at _me._ " Wash snarled, then crossed his arms. 

"Bravo, Zuko." Church said, unsure what else to say. The objective had been completed...be supposed. No one moved, and no one spoke. 

Wash turned away from them, seething. He was just so _pissed off._

"It was stupid to tell the truth. Should have just sucked it up and stayed where I belonged, but _no_ , I had to tell the truth. And then I was free to wreak havoc on people who never should have been stuck with me in the first place. And it’s stupid to think that because _I don't deserve it_ and it _wasn't my fault_ and it's stupid to say it out loud because that's all anything anyone's gonna tell me and I know it in my head but nothing is ever gonna change the fact that in my fucking 'heart of hearts' or whatever I wish I was still in a basement getting whipped instead of laying in bed with someone I don't deserve and I wish I'd been the one to get raped over and over on the living room floor instead of laughing with my family that I don't deserve and being happy when happiness isn't supposed to be what I'm supposed to have but I want it and apparently I deserve it but I don't and I don't and I do but I don't and I-" Wash eventual runs out of air and out of ways to explain himself and this whole time he's just been angrily muttering to the wall with his back turned to them. Suddenly he just feels tired and his shoulders sag, like all the fires been ripped out of him and he's gone cold.

"And I don't want to burn myself anymore...." He sighs to the room. "Thanks for that. Now I just want to...go to sleep." 

“Okay, just...let me process,” Church looked up at the ceiling as he adjusted how he was sitting to be cross legged with his hands in his lap. He looked calm whenever Wash turned to look at him. Honestly, it almost made Wash envy how apathetic and unaffected by life Church was.

But then, looking at the scars on his arms, that obviously wasn’t nearly as chill as he proclaimed.

“Okay, sit down, fucktard. Much like Tucker, I am not done blowing your mind,” Church instructed Wash, patting the bed spread as he lazily looked up at the blond.

“Poorly executed sex joke, man,” Tucker grumbled.

“Yeah, shut up.” Church shrugged off the comment and waited for Wash to settle down onto the bed. “Okay, so I’m not you anymore. I’m me. Neck beard, chill attitude, and an affinity for getting stuck in situations where I have to help people.”

“Church, I’m honestly just--”

“I also don’t like being interrupted,” Church glared pointedly at Wash, who sighed but dutifully shut the fuck up. “My mom died. My dad fucked off to do who knows what. I ruined all of my relationships because I thought that everything was my fault. Whenever that didn’t hurt enough, I started cutting myself. Shit got bad. What would you say to me?”

Wash furrowed his eyebrows and frowned at Church, not actually knowing the circumstances of Church’s self harming but finding them...oddly familiar to his own.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve the pain. And I get what you’re trying to do--”

“Now I’m Tucker. Waxy as fuck dreads--”

“Hey!”

“--interrupting people all of the time, and shorter than a mushroom. My parents have ignored me since I was a kid. I’ve hated myself for years. Every year around my birthday I self harm by becoming recklessly suicidal and picking fights. I don’t care if I live or die. I try my best to help anyone I meet, but every time I do, the world smacks me down. I get my boyfriend out of an abusive home, my parents actually pay attention to me for long enough to take away my bed as punishment. I help my boyfriend readjust to human life, but all of his clothes smell like pot and every time I go home I feel like I’m gonna have a panic attack. I help my boyfriend with his assignments, and whenever he gets the microwave blown up I--”

“Church, enough.” Tucker growled in a harsh tone as he stared resolutely at his cell phone.

“What would you say to me--only the truth please.”

“You don’t deserve what people give you. You love with everything and all you try to do is help. Church--”

“We all hate ourselves, Wash.” Church interrupted once more, leaning over the side of his bed to grab two notebooks--one empty, one a good deal full. “We all blame ourselves for bad things. I blame myself for my mom dying and my dad not caring enough about me to see passed it. Tucker blames himself for somehow not being good enough for his own parents to love him. You blame yourself for the people around you getting hurt. And you probably always will. The simple truth, though, is that it’s not your fault.”

Wash sighed and tried not to let him disappointment shine through. He _knew_ that already.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Platitudes decades old aren’t gonna help your special flower of man pain. Which is why I’m not gonna try and force you to believe it. It’s like blind patriotism--whenever a lie is constantly hammered into your brain, you believe it. But at least now you know that that’s exactly what it is--a lie. There is no magical way to take away all of your pain--and if you find one, you better let me know. No relationship is gonna heal survivor’s guilt. No “true love” is gonna make your scars fade away. Only time can do that, and it will--if you give it a chance.

“The problem with people like us is that we tend to overlook progress and focus on our faults which actually puts a damper on healing. So, I started keeping a journal.” Church opened the notebook and revealed the sloppy chicken scratch that was covering the first page. “I started writing two things every day in the form of lists, letters to myself, poems--whatever, but two things. One would go over everything that I hated about myself, my situation, my father, my friends. My mom.”

Church paused as he thumbed through the pages and landed on one with dried blood stained on the corner and covered in dark angry writing.

“It got bad. Really bad.”

Wash felt like he should say something as he stared down, phrases like _**’I hate her!**_ and _**She caused all of this!**_ and _**I hate that I hate her…**_ popped out at him and hit him right in the gut.

His therapist had mentioned something about ‘anger’ being one of the stages of grief.

There was a heavy silence. Wash felt something for someone he'd never imagine he'd have a connection with, in that beat of silence. Then Church turned the page again, and pointed to a list on the other side, that was shorter than the others.

“After you write the first thing, about how much you hate yourself or whatever you hate, you write a positive thing about all the things you like about yourself and about others and shit. Even the tiny little things you think might sound stupid, gotta write them down. Eventually, you go through and deal with everything on the list or whatever as you keeping writing it, and the positive part gets longer and longer.” Church explained, flipping through pages to show less angry handwriting and longer lists on the other side of the page. 

“That’s...really smart.” Tucker whispered, staring down at the notebook. “I remember you telling me about this, but I never realized how smart it was. You should go into psychology.”

Church rolled his eyes. “I am, numbnuts.”

“Oh...well, you’ll be good at it.” Tucker nodded, still staring down at the notebook.

Church turned his attention back to Wash. He took the empty notebook in front of him. 

“Knock yourself out. Two things, once a day. Don’t panic if you miss a day. If it helps, it helps. if it doesn’t, well, everyone’s different…” Church leaned back on the bed, and then he sighed. 

“And, I suppose, if you need someone to come talk to about it you can swing by whenever you feel like it. I have no life and you know where I am. And I…” Church glanced towards Tucker, something Wash recognized in his eyes, then looked away and shrugged. His apathetic mask came crashing back down. 

“That’s the most I can do for you, bro. Take it or leave it.” He stated.

Wash stared down at the empty notebook in front of him, and felt like he was going to cry. Crying probably wasn’t a good idea, though, so he blinked it back and took a deep breath, rolling off the bed and standing up, notebook in hands. He had a lot to think about and process. He tilted his head in Church’s direction. 

“Thank you. For..everything.” He said.

“Thanks for listening. Now you two love birds better get going, it’s almost dark and I’m not driving you. I don’t give that many fucks.” Church said, reaching over to grab his phone. 

Tucker stood, and kicked Church’s foot that was hanging off the bed. 

“Thank you, man. I owe you one.”

“Damn right you do. Five dollars.” Church demanded.

“You’re fucking rich I’m not giving you five dollars!” Tucker bantered back.

Church rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot.” 

Tucker huffed and shot him a smile, and then lead Wash out of the room and down the hall. The minute they were gone and the door was shut, Church put down his phone and sat up. He rolled his shoulders and sighed, sagging. After a moment, he reached for his notebook and flipped to the next empty page, grabbing a pen off the night table. On the right side, he started a positive list, with only one thing on it. 

_I’m starting to see why Tucker likes Wash._

Then he went to the left side, and started a negative list with only one line as well.

 _I hate how much I wish I didn’t._

Tucker and Wash hobbled/walked side by side down the sidewalk toward the small Denny’s that where they had agreed to get some dinner and call Angela or Melinda for a ride, the silent tension around them seeming almost deafening.

“So, what he said about your parents taking away your bed…” Wash started, swallowing thickly as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, true,” Tucker confirmed as he paused for a beat to catch his breath, still not quite used to the crutches and absolutely _dreading_ the idea of three more months on them. Not quite as much, however, as he dreaded having this conversation.

Wash bit his bottom lip angrily, but stopped walking as well to let Tucker rest.

The crutches were, after all, his fault.

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He tried to make his tone casual and uninterested, but winced whenever it came out as chiding and combative. Tucker looked down at the concrete in between them and made a ‘tsk’ sound.

“Because your mom just died? Because you just got out of an abusive home? Because I was scared to death that you would blame yourself? Because I was scared that if I did tell you, you’d push me away and cite ‘my own good’ as one of your reasons? Which, might I remind you, you actually _were_ doing?” Tucker spat out in response, the wound from Wash rejection still sore.

Wash shook his head and balled his fists angrily in his pockets. He had to admit that while those were all damn good reasons, something told him that they were bullshit. A way for Tucker to bounce off of this subject easily by bringing up something that Wash hated thinking about.

“Bullshit,” Wash huffed and turned to meet Tucker’s surprised look. “I invented the ‘to protect you’ excuse, I know that it’s used to hide something deeper that you’re more self conscious of.”

Tucker scowled and ducked his head before speaking quietly, “Because if nobody else knew, it wasn’t real. If I didn’t tell you, it wasn’t as real and you couldn’t…”

Tucker shook his head and looked up at Wash, “You know what? I don’t owe you an explanation until you explain why you regret telling me about Kaleb.”

Wash clenched his jaw and glared down at Tucker, taking a step forward to force Tucker into looking up at him. “I already told you--both of you. It’s because I feel like I deserve everything he’d throw at me.”

Tucker scoffed and shook his head. “You don’t--”

“I know!” Wash yelled, making Tucker jump and accidentally put too much weight on his leg. He cried out in pain, but didn’t have time to react before Wash was there, hooking his arm underneath Tucker’s shoulder and taking the weight easily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know that this is frustrating,” Tucker whispered as he loosely gripped Wash’s shirt and stared up at his boyfriend. “I know that it sucks not being able to snap your fingers and heal--trust me, I know how annoying it is. I know it’s probably not great to learn that after everything, I’m still keeping things from you. But I love you. And I’m here for you. Isn’t that...isn’t that enough for now?”

Wash frowned down at Tucker’s frustrated expression before leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead.

“I don’t want you to hold back, but...I’m not gonna push you. When you tell me everything, I want it to be because you want to tell me.”

Tucker nodded as a wave of relief rippled through him.

“Thank you.”

Wash nodded and the silently continued on.

And no matter how hard he tried, Wash just wasn’t able to the fact that Tucker said he was hiding _things_ from him. 

As in multiple. 

As in Tucker was going out of his way to keep Wash in the dark about _multiple_ parts of his life.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wash-centric  
> some church/wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologize, but...not sorry

“Hey! Are you even listening to me, undercut?” Church asked loudly as he poked Wash’s forehead, forcing Wash to snap out of his thundercloud and actually look up at Church, who seemed annoyed and...maybe concerned? Wash narrowed his eyes and tried to get a better read on the other teenager’s face, but his apathetic mask soon slipped back into place.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the actual fuck is going on?” Church demanded.

Wash raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, “The wrong way?”

“Don’t think that I care.”

“If you don’t care, why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity.”

“Sounds more like ‘concern’ from where I’m sitting,” Wash challenged, earning Church’s bitchface.

“Fine, bitch, I care. About Tucker. And if something’s going on between you two, I’ll need to know. I’m still pissed at myself for suggesting that we have a movie night with cheesy rom coms whenever he called me to vent about your breakup.”

“...It’s nothing,” Wash mutter, hugging one knee to his chest as he sat next to Church in Church’s living room.

Church sighed and stood before extending his hand out to Wash. “Come on, blondie. Apparently I’m not quite done blowing your mind with my sick problem-solving skills.”

Wash blinked, and took Church’s hand and let him help him up. He was surprised by how...warm Church’s hand was. Warm and steady. Which was a weird thing to think about. 

Church led him upstairs to the largest kitchen Wash had ever seen in his life. He gestured to one of the stools around the island counter. Wash did as he was told and took a seat. Church started pulling things out of the cupboards, and Wash’s eyes widened.

“You can cook?” He asked.

Church threw him a look over his shoulder. “Of cou-” He started to say something snarky, but seemed to stop himself. He shrugged, and pulled a skillet out. 

“Yeah. When I was younger I was practically raised by this really nice nanny or governess or whatever you wanna call her. She taught me all about cooking. My old man didn’t like it and fired her, and I haven’t seen her since. She was one of only people who actually made me feel good about myself, so I like to cook. Makes me happy.” He explained in an offhand manner, but with more depth to his tone than he usually allowed. Something about it struck a cord in Wash’s heart, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders. 

“I’m glad you have things that make you happy.” Wash said.

“What do you mean by that?” Church asked as he started to mix flour and other ingredients in a bowl.

“I mean...I know you’re a lot deeper than you let people think you are, and a lot of that depth isn’t sunshine and rainbows. It makes me happy to know that you’re happy, at least some of the time. It’s hard to tell when you’re happy.” Wash shrugged.

Church paused in his stirring, back still turned to Wash. “Happy is something you’ve got to make for yourself, sometimes.” He replied, and started to stir again. 

Wash laughed lightly, and it rang out like music in the kitchen, causing the side of CHurch’s mouth to tug upward a little as he worked. 

“I have half a mind to get another notebook and just fill it with quotes of all the pearls of wisdom you drop.” Wash said, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Church cook.

“It’d be a best seller, that’s for sure. You’d make a fortune.” Church replied as he poured some blueberries from a jar into the mixture. 

“Money’s overrated. I’d probably give it to charity or something. Although, I’d use some of it to buy Tucker a new bed. And a new house. And new parents.” Wash sighed, his relaxed tone drifting into wistfulness. There it was. Church hummed in response as he poured some of the batter onto the hot skillet.

“Let me guess, he didn’t tell you about the bed, did he?” Church asked, even though he already knew the answer. He knew Tucker, after all.

Wash sighed. “Yeah. It bothers me, but I don’t have a right to be bothered about him keeping things from me…” 

“Of course you do. He’s your boyfriend, after all.” Holy shit, that word tasted bitter on Church’s tongue. 

“Not after what I did.” Wash said in a small voice. 

“Ah, I see. He thinks that you being a selfish dick and breaking his heart was actually you being a selfless idiot and now he’s afraid of triggering the massive guilt complex you’ve got. ‘Cause that’ll just fuck with _his_ massive guilt complex. Man, you two are quite the pair.” Church chuckled humorlessly as he flipped the pancake.

“If you want to be a shrink you’ll have to work on your bedside manner.” Wash drawled.

“Bullshit, my manner gets the job done, doesn’t it?” Church responded, flipping the pancake onto a plate and pouring more batter on the skillet.

Wash nodded, even though Church couldn’t see it. “What about you? Do you have a massive guilt complex?” 

Church shook his head. “No, my issues don’t gravitate towards guilt. They gravitate towards…” He could say a lot of things. Being an asshole. Anger. Daddy issues. All are true, yeah, but not the real core of it. If he was talking to anyone else he’d just make some sassy remark, because he wouldn’t care. But something stopped him, and before he knew it he was saying the one thing he’s never really said to anyone before. 

“Loneliness.” Church stated. Wash stared at his back, drinking in the unspoken weight of the situation. Then Church spun around with a cocky smile and set a plate full of perfectly cooked blueberry waffles in front of him. 

“Bon appetit, monsieur!” He declared. Wash blinked. 

“Holy shit, these look great, thank you!” Wash exclaimed, smiling up at him. Church just shrugged and turned back towards the skillet. He didn’t like how bright Wash’s smile made the room. Or did he like it too much?

Either way, it wasn’t good news. 

Wash grabbed the syrup from the shelf where it was in plain view and then sat back down. He gazed down at the pancakes for a little while before touching them. He looked back up.

“Hey, Church?” He asked. Church hummed in response, turning to look at him.

“Can you add people to the list of things you like about your life?” Wash asked, expression thoughtful. Church blinked. 

“Uh, yeah.” He replied. 

Wash nodded, then returned his attention to the pancakes. 

Church blinked up at Wash and frowned as if trying to figure him out. Both of them munched on the pancakes for a bit before Church decided that even though he now had confusing feelings for his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend, he wouldn’t let their relationship spoil if he could help it.

“You know...Tucker…” Church started, putting down his silverware and leaning back into his chair to cross his arms over his chest. Wash tensed at the mention of his boyfriend, but gave Church all of his attention.

“I’m listening.” He prompted after a beat of silence.

Church pursed his lips and glared up at the ceiling as he tried to work out what he wanted to say. “Tucker and his parents have a relationship that is insanely complicated from an outside point of view. They ignore him, which makes him feel constantly rejected. But every once in a while, they’d tune in long enough to get livid with him. They’d punish him for absolutely convoluted things--once they kicked him out for wearing a shirt that I gave him. The punishment didn’t even fit the imagined crimes, it was just…”

Church let out a sigh. “It was just the way it was.”

“Yeah, but at least he was _honest_ about it with you!” Wash frowned.

“Bitch please!” Church snorted. “I don’t think that that motherfucker has ever been straightforward and honest about a problem in his entire life. It took his parents giving him a black eye and me pinning him to the ground for him to admit everything. He fucking punched me in the stomach, man. It hurt!”

Wash laughed lightly at the mental image before frowning. He should probably feel jealous that Church got to pin down Tucker, but somehow the idea was…

Something Wash didn’t want to psychoanalyze.

“I feel like our pain in these two instances are a bit different.” Wash muttered, looking down at Church’s impossibly blue eyes.

“Not so different,” Church shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that I felt the same thing you are. Betrayal, anger, jealousy, lied to. Like somehow you’ve done something to make Tucker feel like you wouldn’t listen to his problems. It sucks.”

“Yeah, I...dating Tucker should come with a warning label. Warning: Might accidentally break your heart with his pile of trust issues.”

Church snort and leaned his elbow on the table, turning his body to face Wash. “Just give him some time. If, after everything has calmed down or if something _really_ big happens, then you should push him.”

“I just wish he’d be more open! Getting him to tell me about his fucking _day_ is like pulling teeth!” Wash sighed and leaned forward slightly. “I wish that he’d be more open...more like you.”

Church blinked in surprised before a slow grin came over his face. He leaning forward and spoke in a teasingly voice that sent lightning down Wash’s spine. “Everyone wishes that their boyfriend was more like me. What can I say?”

Wash’s eyes flickered down to Church’s lips, tantalizingly close. Close enough that he could feel every one of Church’s exhales on his own lips. He felt it as the atmosphere around them changed to a whole new version of heaviness, as his breath started picking up, and his eyelids grew heavy.

He watched as understanding and--was that desire?--grew in Church’s eyes whenever his pupils dilated.

God, it would be so easy for him to just lean over and press his lips to Church’s. He wondered to himself if Church would take control of the kiss or gladly submit. He wondered if Church would wrap his arms around Wash’s neck, if he’d pull Wash’s hair, if he’d be okay with manhandled the way Tucker was--

_Oh my god._

Tucker.

Wash pulled away like he’d been burnt and stared down at his pancakes, jumping at least three feet into the air whenever his phone vibrated with a text message. From Tucker.

God, would ironies never cease?

 _How's it going in Howl's Moving Castle over there, babe?_ Tucker's text read. Wash swallowed thickly.

 _I don't think that's a good metaphor, love._ Wash responded. Then he looked up at Church, whose expression was guarded and apathetic.

"I should go." He stated, voice tight. "T-thanks, see you later." He stammered, then turned and booked it the fuck out of there. 

\-------

Wash sighed, rolling out of bed with a groan. It was fucking one in the morning, but his dry throat wouldn't allow him to go back to sleep. He hated sleeping in a shirt in this heat...no one was awake, so he just got up and decided to get some water. Careful not to wake his aunts or Claire, who was staying with them, he tiptoed down the stairs. 

Only to freeze when he stepped into the kitchen. Claire was standing there with a cup of tea. He'd successfully avoided her this entire time, up till now. Maybe she hadn't seen him, he could just turn around and-

"Wash?" She called softly, setting down her tea. Fuck. He forced himself to turn back towards her. Her eyes flicked down to his exposed torso and hipbones- curse low hanging pants. Her eyes rolled over all the burn marks with a sad expression. He froze, feeling shamefully exposed. Which was stupid. This was the woman that had saved his life, cleaned him up after his back was ripped open. 

"You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" She asked softly. Wash awkwardly crossed his arms over himself. 

"I-" Fuck, what should he say?

Claire just nodded sadly. "You really wish he'd raped you instead, don't you?" She said softly.

Wash stared at her, shocked at the abruptness.

Claire sighed and took a step towards him.  
"You shouldn't blame yourself. Although, you probably already know that. It must be confusing." 

Wash bite his lip and looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault." Claire said softly. "I made a decision and I stick by it. I did it on purpose, and I will never regret it." 

There was a moment of silence, and Wash wished he could sink into the ground. 

"Everyone keeps telling you to stop blaming everything on yourself, don't they?" She said.  
"They say you shouldn't be sorry. But there's something they've forgotten to mention, that's important." Claire reached forward and place a cool hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't be sorry for being sorry." She told him with a smile. He looked up at her, slightly confused.

"It isn't your fault you feel so guilty, it isn't your fault you're blaming yourself. Don't feel guilty for feeling guilty. It's not your fault, your not being stupid, you're being human. He beat that into you, it's his voice telling you to burn yourself, not your own. It isn't good to be in pain, but it isn't your fault either. Do you understand?" She explained. Wah's rated at her, and tears started to build up in his eyes. Then he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her. She returned the hug, pulling him close.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against her shoulder. 

"I am too. And that's okay." She replied, kissing his hair. 

“God, I missed you,” Wash breathed out, pulling away to look up at Claire.

Claire smiled down at him, “I missed you, too, kid. Come on, I’ll make you some peppermint tea and we can talk. Sound good?”

Wash grinned and nodded, following her into the kitchen. He hopped up onto a barstool and leaned over the counter to watch Claire fill a kettle with water before putting it onto the stove.

“So, how are things at the hospital.”

“Ugh, Kelly in pediatrics keeps trying to talk me into a double date with her, her husband, and her husband’s little brother who is the lead vocalist of a screamo band.”

“But is it a _tasteful_ screamo band?” Wash asked sarcastically, earning a soft chuckle.

“Nope.” Claire giggled and jumped at the sound of the screaming kettle. She poured the water into her used mug and the new one that she grabbed for Wash before getting the tea bags and plopping them in. “Plus he has a loud voice and blue hair. I’m not ready for that.”

“What are you ready for?” Wash asked softly.

“Boring,” Claire nodded to herself and looked up at Wash. “Probably not right now, but some boring guy with a boring job in a boring house in a boring suburb sounds like...a dream.”

Wash gave her a small smile. 

“So how are you and Tucker?” She asked gently after the both of them had finished their tea in silence.

“We’re...good. I think.”

“Oh, drama. Tell me more.”

“He...has a lot of shit going on. And so do I. We’re both super fucked up and healing--physically and mentally. It just feels...not right. Before, no matter what, me and Tucker, we were a constant--a fact, you know? Two plus two is four, energy is mass times the speed of light squared, the universe is always in a state of flux, and Tucker and Wash love each other.”

Claire nodded and wrapped her arm around Wash’s shoulders, “Do you still love him, honey?”

“Yeah,” Wash whispered. “I think that’s what makes it hurt the most. He’s...it’s like he’s pulling away from me, you know? He’s keeping things from me and he doesn’t even really _talk_ to me anymore. He’s here, he’s just...not _here_. I don’t know how to help him.”

“Well, sweetie,” Claire breathed out. “You might not be able to help. This...might be something he needs to work out on his own.”

Wash nodded, but the storm in his head never subsided.

The problem was that, even if this was something that Tucker needed help with, he wouldn’t ask.

\----

Wash ran a hand through Tucker's dreads, breathing in the lazy Saturday atmosphere. It was warm, being all tangled up in Tucker. Comfortable. Warm. However...an awkwardness still preceded the air between them. 

Wash hated how much he hated that Tucker didn't confide in him, because it was so fucking hypocritical. Not only because of what he had done before, but because of what he was still keeping from him.

Maybe the best way to get Tucker to open up was to be completely honest himself.

"I ALMOST KISSED CHURCH." He blurted out before he could stop himself. 

There was a beat of silence as Wash felt Tucker grow more and more tense. He watched as Tucker’s face became unreadable and his eyes became stormy.

Looking at the expression on his face, Wash could stand to admit that he probably could’ve broke the news a bit more tactfully.

“Oh,” Tucker breathed out before sitting up, putting some much needed space between the two of them. Fuck. He could feel the suffocating anger and sorrow and _apathy_ that had been tugging him down for the past couple of months become that much stronger.

Fuck, of course Wash fucking wanted to kiss Church. The two of them were actually helping each other heal instead of just being emotional and physical burdens. The two of them were open and honest with each other in a way Wash and Tucker couldn’t be. The two of them made sense.

“I think...I think I’m gonna leave,” Tucker muttered whenever he felt Wash sit up next to him, his broad chest against Tucker’s back almost painfully jarring him out of his thoughts.

“Tucker--” Wash started, worry and fear grasping his throat. Fuck, he didn’t want Tucker to leave. He wanted to _talk_ , goddamnit. 

“Wash,” Tucker cut him off as he turned to look at his boyfriend. He was surprised and confused at the fearful expression on his face. What was he afraid of? Losing Tucker?

Yeah, right.

“Do you want to break up with me?” Tucker asked in an almost whisper, startling Wash.

“No, Tucker! I just--”

“If you’re not breaking up with me do you think you can just...give me some time to process?” Tucker asked numbly as he looked around, trying to remember where he put his crutches.

Wash sighed and shook his head. “Yeah...I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do this right now.” Tucker choked out, the first sign of the tears that were sure to come the minute he was out of the Washington house--just like every other fucking night for the past month.

Wash swallowed and nodded, watching as Tucker located his crutches and hobbled away.

He couldn’t help but wish he’d just kept his mouth shut whenever he heard Tucker’s voice like that…


	19. you cry alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda short but tucker-centric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tell me these words are a lie  
> It cant be true  
> That I'm losing you  
> The sun cannot fall from the sky  
> So hold on  
> Be strong  
> Everyday on we'll go  
> I'm here, don't you fear"  
> -"Tears of an Angel" by Ryandan

Even with all his blankets under him, the floor was just so fucking hard. Just like life. Life was hard and cold and it fucking sucked. 

Tucker gave up trying to get comfortable and just laid there, accepting his fate. He picked up his phone, heart twisting when he clicked the little Wash icon.

He'd been avoiding both Church and Wash for the better part of a week, ever since Wash's confession. While it ripped his heart into pieces, he'd decided that he loved both of them and that they were better for each other than Tucker was for either of them. He was nothing, after all. An accident that just kept fucking everything up. He'd even gone as far as to lock his door when Church had come by to see him. He ignored the hundreds of texts Wash sent him, even when he opened the messenger app. 

He had a plan. A plan that made him want to die inside, but a plan nonetheless.

 _Hey. We should talk. Meet me at the Carnival that's in town, down at the fairgrounds._ He sent it, then copied and pasted it and sent it to Church. Then he shut his phone off and curled into his side, awkwardly letting his casted leg stretch out to the side. 

He should have known it was too good to be true, that people caring about him would last. God damnit, he loved Wash so much. And he loved Church...he'd always had deep feelings for Church, but he's never known if they were romantic or just platonic. Then Wash had come back and it hasn't really mattered anymore. Well, not that it didn't matter- Church was still his best friend and always would be. He knew how lonely Church was, but something has always prevented them from going any deeper into their relationship. Either way, it didn't matter at all now. Wash and Church... they obviously liked each other. They understood each other. And apparently, there had been some spark of attraction. Who was he too stand in the way of the two people he loved most finding someone that was actually worth loving? But, god, it _hurt._ He turned his face into his arms and started to sob, unable to care enough to hold the tears back. How pathetic he must look. 

His misery was rudely interrupted by stumbling footsteps, and his door slammed open.

"Why didn't you take out the garbage, you piece of shit?" His father slurred, eyes red.  
Tucker jumped, looking up at him. He sneered up at the man, misery spiking into anger.

"It's not my fucking garbage. I'm not touching all your dirty shit, I barely leave this room, it's not my mess!" He exclaimed in indignation. "Not too mention, in case you hadn't noticed, I've got a broken leg!" 

His father surged up and stormed into the room, and slapped him across the face. From the doorway, his obviously wasted mother began to snort with laughter.

"I'll break your other fucking leg if you ever talk to me like that again, you little ungrateful brat! We didn't ask for you, you're the biggest _mess_ we ever made! Better yet, why don't you just stop talking altogether, no one gives a fuck what you have to say! Clean this fucking house or I'll boot your ungrateful ass on the street for good!" His father snarled, then turned around and stalked part his mother down the hall. Tucker just say, frozen, as his face burned and tears kept silently rolling down his face.

His mother just have noticed this, because her apathetic, drunk smile instantly snapped into a look of disgust.

"Have you been cryin?" She exclaimed. He didn't respond, just stared at her.

"Don't be such a little fucking bitch. Wipe those tears off your ugly mug, boy! You're already a burden, don't be a snotty sniveling one too!" She huffed, then slammed the door and stumbled after his father. Their drunk laughter faded into the hum of the air conditioner that had never actually worked. 

Tucker just say there, insides sinking into despair, body going numb. 

After hours of cleaning, abuse, and trying in vain to sleep, Tucker turned his phone back on to check the time.

_5:42 a.m._

_14 unread messages, 6 missed calls, 3 voicemails_

Tucker sighed and opened his phone to at least listen to the voicemails. He hated having the notifications up and the voicemail ones were annoying about not going away until you’ve actually listened to the damn things.

The first one was from Wash.

_Hey! I don’t know if you got my text because you haven’t been answering me, but I’ll be at the carnival in like fifteen minutes. I...really hope that you’re not gonna bail on me again, Tucker…_

_[sigh]_

_I don’t...what am I supposed to even say here? God, I hate voicemails. Well, I guess I’ll see you._

_…_

_This is Wash, by the way. In case that wasn’t obvious._

Tucker would’ve laughed a month ago, would’ve been amused with how unapologetically awkward Wash was over the phone.

But Tucker wasn’t really the person that he was a month ago, and now he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed.

The second voicemail was from Church.

_Come on, Tucker...why are...why do you keep doing this!? We keep coming because we care about you and want to hang out with you! We’re doing this for you, dammit!_

_I know that you’re hurt and that you feel betrayed--or maybe you feel like you don’t have the right to which is confusing you--but you can’t…_

_This isn’t right, man. Just talk to him, okay? He’s worried about you...we both are._

Well.

Tucker rubbed his eyes in frustration--not daring to let the tears fall in fear of if his mother found out--before playing the third voicemail from Wash.

_I get it, you know. I kinda deserve it. And I’ll take the punishment, just please...please, dove, let me know if you’re okay. Please be okay. I love you, Tucker. I’m sorry...I’m so fucking sorry._

And somehow that short one seemed to pierce his heart the worst of all.

He read over the text messages--all variations of what the voicemails had said--and shot off a quick text to both of them claiming that he fell asleep and that he was sorry.

After doing a quick inspection of the house to make sure that it was spotless, Tucker settled onto the pallet that he’d made himself in his room. He laid on his back--his one pillow going to elevate his leg--and let the silent tears fall.

He turned his head lazily whenever his phone lit up with another text from Wash.

_Please talk to me, Tucker. I love you._

Tucker sighed and rolled onto his side carefully.

_I’m sorry, it was an accident. I grabbed the wrong pain pills. We’ll talk soon, I promise._

After a moment there was another spark of light.

_Church doesn't believe you, he called a car. Apparently he can do that. We're coming over. See you soon._

Panic rose in Tucker's throat. Before he could reply, another text popped up.

 _Fuck this bullshit. I'm coming for you and you can't stop me. I watched lock picking videos on YouTube, asshole!_ Church's text read. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tucker looked around. He was pretty sure that his parents had left again, which was good. Maybe he could barricade the door? With his leg, he doubted he'd be able to move anything heavy enough to whole back Hurricane Church. 

Maybe he could leave? Where would he go? And wouldn't that just be running away, for real? Just like Wash did? Wash pulling away had hurt him so bad, he didn't want to hurt them. He also didn't want to be holding them back anymore. Maybe he should just wait for the inevitable, then tell them the truth. He sighed, laying back a little more. He supposed that was his only option. Sit and wait. 

Not long after he gave in to his fate, he heard the door open. He heard low muttering as Wash and Church headed for his room. Bile rose in Tucker's throat and he curled to the side, facing his back to the door.

He tried not to wince in fear of the upcoming awkwardness. 

"What's up, asshole!" Church declared as he threw the door open. Then he paused, frowning down at Tucker.

Tucker, broken leg and all, still laying on the floor like a dog. It only pissed him off more.

"Church...." Wash muttered from behind him. In the car, Wash had made Church promise to be gentle about it. Church had agreed, but naturally he'd been lying. Fuck that shit.

“Come on, man,” Church scowled down at Tucker as Wash hesitantly moved down onto his knees beside his boyfriend. “Get up and talk to us like a grown ass adult.

“Church!” Wash’s tone was sharper this time, no longer a request, but now a warning. He settled beside Tucker’s back, “Dove, come on. Can you sit up for us? The faster you acknowledge us, the faster we’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

Ignoring Church’s derisive snort, Tucker sighed and sat up, unconsciously leaning into Wash.

“Yeah, ‘fell asleep’ my ass. You look like you haven’t slept in a month,” Church crossed his arms and kept his words harsh, but Tucker knew that he used that tone to cover up concern.

“Church, sit down and be nice,” Wash scowled at him. They glared at each other for a bit before Church gave in and sat on Tucker’s other side.

“You guys shouldn’t be here,” Tucker muttered, looking down at his hands to avoid eye contact. “If my parents were here they’d get pissed.”

“Screw your parents,” Church declared, looking at his best friend pleadingly. “We’re here because we’re worried about you.”

Tucker slumped over more, guilt causing his stomach to twist into olympic-worthy positions.

“We’re not trying to make you feel worse,” Wash spoke in a gentle tone as he tentatively brought a hand up to hold Tucker’s--wary of being pushed away. “We just want to know why you’re pushing us away.”

Tucker took a deep breath and tried to plot out a game plan. It’d be easy to make Wash feel like he wasn’t good for Tucker--especially considering that he already kinda did--but Tucker...really didn’t want that. He didn’t want Wash to feel responsible for him being like…

Well, like _this_ , whatever _this_ is.

“Well, I mean, my boyfriend did almost kiss my best friend. That was a little...confusing,” Tucker mumbled under his breath, causing Wash to stiffen and Church to scowl.

“Was confusing? Did you...come to a conclusion without talking to me?” Wash asked, a little hurt.

“Yeah,” Tucker nodded. He seemed to realized that he had been leaning on Wash and straightened before pulling his hand out of Wash’s. “I realized that you two would be a lot better for each other than I am--”

“Bullshit,” Church growled.

Tucker looked away. "Stop trying to be all noble, I--" He began, but Wash cut him off.

"I was never actually going to kiss him!" Wash burst out, face twisted into an axioms expression. "It was just a freakish fluke thing and it was such a fluke I wouldn't have even told you because it was just nothing but you've been so withdrawn lately and I have this issue where I blame myself for everything and blow it out of proportion so I thought maybe if I cleared the air completely you would too but I-" Wash took a deep breath. He'd been talking a mile a minute. He stared desperately at Tucker the whole time, and didn't notice he was digging his nail into the inside of his finger. 

"I'm sorry that I hurt you before and I know I'm the last person that should talk about pulling away, but I love you and I know you don't really want to be alone! I'll do whatever you want me to do to make up for it, but I promise it was nothing!" Wash looked almost like he was begging. Tucker stared at him, almost enraptured in shock at how desperately Wash was staring at him. 

Church sat to the side, and felt a strange shriveling feeling in his chest, but he didn't do anything to acknowledge it. It had just been nothing. This was what he wanted, Tucker and Wash together and happy- and of course, him on the sidelines with a foam finger and a heart full of lead. 

"Oh for Christ's sake," Church grumbled. He leaned over Tucker to grab Wash's face and kiss him hard. The pressure of Wash's lips was fleeting before he pulled away to hold the back of Tucker's neck and press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

He pulled away and ignored the annoying as fuck fluttering in both his stomach and chest.

"There," Church declared as he stared at the two dazed faces in front of him. He could get used to this. Fuck, no. Bad Church. "We're all even. I'm leaving. You two need to work out your issues."

Tucker watched, dumbfounded, as Church left. "I...was not expecting that."

"We didn't plan that!" Wash hurried to defend himself, but was cut off by Tucker leaning against him again. 

"I'm not mad at you," Tucker spoke softly. "I...don't know how to say it, I just..."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I want to know, I do. But I want an explanation on your terms. I don't want to force you--"

"I'm angry at myself. My leg. My parents. The world. I...I feel horrible all of the time and I know that I'm keeping thing from you but--" Tucker stopped himself and stared at Wash's hand. "You're rubbing your fingers."

Wash held back his disappointment whenever Tucker trailed off only to be surprised at his next sentence. He looked down at his hand and froze."Yes, dove, I am. But it's not because of you. Well, it's because of listening to you. I was scared of how you would react to this. I was scared that ambushing you and pushing you was the wrong thing to do. All I've been able to do lately has been worry that you and me were over. I was scared and I felt so guilty because now I finally understand what you felt whenever I pushed you away and I'm so sorry."

Tucker reached forward and held Wash's hand before looking up at him. "I forgave you already. And I hope that you'll forgive me because I _want_ to tell you. I do. It's just that...every time I try to, it's like the words get caught in my throat. I'm so sorry."

Wash wrapped his arms around Tucker's shoulders and pulled him close. "It's okay."


	20. wake me up inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING
> 
> followed by bad things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And I don't want the world to see me  
> Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
> When everything's meant to be broken  
> I just want you to know who I am"  
> -"Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls

It was the second day back to school, and Wash didn't give a fuck what the teacher was saying already. He was too busy trying to figure out how to celebrate the anniversary of him coming back to town and reuniting with Tucker. It felt almost insane, that it had been a year. 

He chewed on the end of his pen as he stared down at his paper. A pro and con list about dates for Tucker had been his best bet to decide between his two ideas. He just hasn't considered they'd be completely even. Well, maybe he should-

"David Washington?" His teacher called, causing him to look up. Claire was standing in the doorway. Tears in her eyes, a giant smile on her face. What the fuck?

"You're excused from class." The teacher informed him. He blinked, and sloppily put his stuff away. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards the door, following Claire into the hall. The door clicked closed behind him and he was surprised to find Tucker leaning against the hallway door already, a rather raw expression on his face. He had never seen it on his boyfriend's face before.

"Is everything okay?" He asked warily.

Claire seemed to be brimming with joy, but she was crying silently. 

"Everything a more than great. Wash-Wash, your father woke up. He's awake, and okay, and waiting for you. Both of you." She said, voice cracking a little.

Wash stared at her, information sinking in slowly. The world came to a screeching halt. His dad was awake? It almost didn't seem real. He whipped to stare at Tucker, and he knew from his expression he felt the same. 

"Let's go, boys. You're aunts are already on their way too, we'll meet them there." Claire said happily, taking Wash's hand and leading him down the hall. Wash just stared ahead, mind still reeling.

Jason was _awake_.

The entire car ride consisted of him repeating this in his head. Excitement coursed through him as they drove, heart starting to pound faster. He'd waited so long, been through so much, he was finally going to see his dad and-

He paused. His dad was also going to see him. Wash look over at the side mirror on Claire's car, staring at himself. He reached up and traced over the thin scar that curved down his cheek and over his jaw, from when Kaleb cut him. It was thin, so he didn't really mind it. Most people didn't ask. But his dad would notice. His dad would ask. His dad was going to find out about _everything_. How was he supposed to tell him, what was he supposed to say? How would his dad react? He didn't want his dad to know how pathetic and broken he was. He didn't want him to know. He sank down in the seat, suddenly less excited. His dad remembered him as happy, and okay, and bright. How was he supposed to do this? The man had lost his wife, five seconds later was he supposed to find out his son was a fucked up, self burning mess who constantly had nightmares about his uncle fucking him? 

He put a hand over his mouth, heart beating fast a whole other reason as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. 

After they climbed out of the car, Wash almost jumped three feet into the air whenever he felt a comforting and warm hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned to see Tucker giving him a small, shaky smile.

"We don't have to tell him everything right away," Tucker murmured, regretfully pulling his hand away to use the crutches to actually walk. "I don't think he'll be able to withhold questions, though."

"He'll be pissed whenever you come in on crutches." Wash gave Tucker a wry smile as they walked together. He'd developed a sort of instinct to be there next to Tucker whenever they'd walk after he'd realized that even after three months, Tucker was never gonna get used to the crutches. He'd trained himself to be there to steady Tucker.

Part of him was ecstatic that his dad would now be there for the both of them.

The other, much larger part, was scared shitless of telling Jason the reason why they needed him.

"Here's to hoping I won't fall again," Tucker muttered underneath his breath.

"I believe in you," Melinda grinned as she and Angela caught up to the three of them at the entrance to the hospital. 

"Besides, if you do, Wash will catch you," Angela reached forward and affectionately ran her hand through Wash's hair. "You ready, kid?"

"I- " Wash hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, I think...as ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's do this," Claire rubbed Wash's shoulder gently. "Together."

"Let's play 'how cliche can Claire get'!" Tucker smiled challengingly as the redhead huffed and flicked his ear. 

"Shut up already," She teased as Tucker tried to duck away from her assaults.

"Grow up, you two. Claire, we don't use those mean words," Melinda scolded the two of them, using the voice that she usually reserved for the troublesome students in her kindergarten class.

"Yeah! Watch your fucking language, Claire!" Tucker stuck out his tongue at Claire.

"Tucker!" Melinda scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. "You're all children."

Wash smiled softly as he watched the makeshift family around him, squabbling and teasing like they've known each other forever. He wondered if...with his father waking up, everything would change.

He wondered if he'd lose this.

They made their way to the third floor, and headed towards a door marked 348B. The door was closed, and Wash knew that once he opened it, nothing would be the same. The others stood behind him, waiting. He knew he had to go in first. He reached out for the handle, cold against his sweating hand. It seemed to take a thousand years to turn before he heard the _click._

The sound made his heart skip a beat, but he didn’t hesitate to push the door open. He’d spent a lot of time over the past few months in this room, sitting beside his father’s still form and just begging whatever God was out there. 

The answer to his prayer was sitting up in bed, as a nurse told him something. Her words drifted off when she saw him in the doorway. His father’s head slowly turned- holy shit, his head was turning, he was awake and his muscles where moving- and then they were staring at each other. Wash was struck with the sudden realization he’d forgotten the color of Jason’s eyes. Blue, like an august sky. How could he have forgotten?

 

There was an extremely heavy moment of silence, and then his father’s face split into a tearful smile. Jason’s eyes flicked between Wash and Tucker, who was standing behind him. 

“Hey, boys.” He said, voice raspy and broken up. But _god_ , it was his voice. He was talking. He was awake, and okay. Wash felt his face crumble and he rushed forward to the edge of his bed, then hesitated, not knowing what to do or if touching him would hurt him-  
Jason decided for him, lunging forward and pulling Was down into a hug. The embrace was tight and desperate and _warm._

"You're awake," Wash murmured against Jason's shoulder as tears streamed down his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, kid, I am." Jason nuzzled his nose against Wash's hair and held in tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Tucker watched with a mixture of love and envy. He shouldn't feel envious- Wash had lost everything, and now he was having Jason returned to him. Tucker supposed the twisting in his stomach came from the fact that at least Wash had something to lose in the first place. 

Tucker couldn't be more happy that Jason was awake, though. He's missed him so much- but he could wait to say his hellos, he wasn't Jason's son. He leaned a little bit on his left crutch and looked down at his shoes to blink back tears, trying to hold back brimming emotions. 

"Tucker! What are you just standing around for? Come give your old man a hug!" Jason exclaimed, pulling one arm from Wash to beckon at him, smiling face streaked with tears. Tucker felt his face twist a little and he hobbled off forward, scooching onto the bed a little so he wouldn't fall over when he leaned into the tight embrace Jason pulled him into. God, Jason have the best hugs.

After a minute, Jason pulled back a little to look at them.

"What happened to your leg, kid?" Jason finally asked in concern. Then he turned and reached up, tracing the scar on Wash's face with his thumb.

"And this...was this from the crash?" He asked. They both stiffened. The room was fairly dark, and Tucker was grateful Jason had yet to notice the thin scar on Tucker's neck. 

"We got into a fight. At school. Big asshole with a knife collection, but we took care of it. It's alright." Wash lied easily, forcing a smile at Jason that actually looked pretty genuine. Tucker glanced towards Wash. The lie made bile rise in Tucker's throat. He knew that Melinda, Claire and Angela were standing behind them. And he knew they were all thinking the same thing.

Wash shouldn't have lied. And he wouldn't be able to keep lying forever. Tucker didn't say anything, though. He didn't want to cause conflict. He just nodded and turned to look at Jason, wondering if he had seen the lie. 

If Jason noticed, he didn't say so. 

"It seems like yesterday I saw you both...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry you've had to be on your own. While, not completely on your own..." He said, turning to smile up at the three woman.

"It's so good to see you all. And you, Claire, you look even more radiant than I remember. Where's that good for nothing brother of mine?" He asked in a good natured tone. Oh, dear. This was worse than a soap opera. The tension was unbearable.

Claire and Melinda exchanged a glance, but Wash answered for him.

"He couldn't make it today, but he'll be by later. Everyone missed you, don't worry, you'll have a full parade through this room before long." Wash assured him, reaching to squeeze his hand. Tucker bit the inside of his lip, and decided to change the subject.

“So, J-dog, how’s the hospital food here?” 

“Like you don’t already know, Mr. Reckless.” Jason replied, clapping him gently on the shoulder. 

 

__________

After some lighthearted talking and reminiscing in Jason’s newfound wakefulness, a doctor came and informed them that Jason’s meds required sleep to work to their full capacity, so they filtered outside with the intention of going out for dinner. As they loaded onto the elevator, there was silence. 

Tucker pursed his lips, and turned to look at Wash. “So, uh, I hate to burst your bubble, babe….but what the fuck was that?” 

Wash had his thumbs hooked in his pockets, staring at the wall of the elevator like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet. Melinda and Claire turned to look at him- Angela had already been staring at Wash since they’d left the room. 

“It’s not like I _wanted_ to lie.” Was muttered.

“Then why did you? He’s gonna find out, Wash. It’s inevitable. This is just gonna cause more awkwardness and pain.” Angela said pointedly. It was more than a little obvious she did not approve. 

“I’m gonna tell him sooner than you think,” Wash said defensively. “I just didn’t want to drop this whole shit ton of bullshit on him the minute he woke up from a _coma_ , okay? I just wanted to give him a little time to adjust. I’ll tell him tonight after we come back, alright?” He explained. 

Tucker felt...slightly bad for being so blunt. “I understand, love. I was just making sure you weren’t digging yourself into a hole.”

Wash sheepishly reached to tangle their fingers together, still not looking up. “I know, it’s alright.” 

It wasn’t alright, but nobody felt the need to say that. 

_______________

Claire used her pull at the hospital to let them all stay with asonJason past visiting hours. His off kilter sleeping schedule had him waking up at eleven, where he was overjoyed to see them all again still. Wash sat on the edge of his bed while Tucker sat in a chair on the other side, and the others sat in chairs against the wall.

"So, I know that with losing me and..your mother, things must have been hard. Hopefully, Kaleb helped you. He's a supportive kind of guy, that's why your mother and I put him as our next of kin. No offense, Melinda." Jason winked at her before turning back to a slightly pale Wash. "How was living with Kaleb? I hope you got along?" Jason asked.

“I...it was great,” Wash gave Jason a shakily smile, focusing too hard on ignoring the hard stares that he could feel against the back of his head to notice the way his father’s smile fell. 

“Wash--” Tucker started, but was cut off by a choking noise from Claire. She put down his small cup of of water and offered them all an apologetic face, even as her slight tan turned paler than Wash during winter.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that I’m needed for another shift...somewhere,” Claire wheezed out through the coughing before fleeing.

Wash bit his bottom lip angrily and glared at his lap but refused to look at her.

“Where is he?” Jason asked softly, looking up at Melinda and Angela instead of at his son.

“He’s...otherwise occupied,” Angela lied smoothly, though the hard lines of her face promised a discussion later.

Jason sighed heavily and turned to give Tucker a ‘help me’ look. Tucker gave Jason a helpless grin before pulling himself up and hobbling over to the bed. “Wanna sign my cast? You can sign anywhere except for the picture of Mjolnir that Kimball drew.”

“Kimball? That the chick from your art class?” Jason asked, gratefully accepting the subject change and pretending not to notice the way Tucker had stopped talking to Wash.

Whatever happened while he was asleep was big.

And he was fucking too busy taking a nap to help his goddamn sons through it.

And now they didn’t even trust him enough to let him know what happened.

_______________

“Wash,” Melinda started as they huddled in the corner of Jason’s room--Wash’s father slumbering peacefully. He almost envied him--Wash would definitely rather be recovering from a coma than having this fucking conversation.

“I don’t know, okay!?” Wash hissed out, shoving a hand through his now messy hair. “I don’t know. I panicked!”

“Wash, it’s going to be hard, but you have to--”

“I have to tell him! You think that I don’t know that, Angela? I just…” Wash shook his head and ignored the soft tone that Melinda was taking with him. Like he was some fucking child that needed to be comforted. “I don’t think I’d be able to stand it if he realized how fucking pathetic I am, okay!? He’d be _pissed_ to know the things that I’ve done! I let Claire and Tucker get hurt so bad that even _months_ later they’re still not okay! I sat back and listened to both of them screaming in pain because of Kaleb! I can’t be the reason that my father loses his brother and I can’t lose my father--”

“Babe,” Tucker breathed out, interrupting his rant.

“No, Tucker, I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it--”

(Kk, that was rude.) 

“Babe!” Tucker called out more insistently, even as the sting of the words didn’t fade. He was staring stubbornly at behind Wash. Where Jason was sleeping.

Emphasis on the _was_.

“Fuck,” Wash breathed out before turning on his heel and getting the fuck outta Dodge. 

“Wash!” Tucker called out behind him, but he ignored it. Fuck, he was ignoring his boyfriend. And his father. And pushing his family away.

Fuck, he was pushing everybody away _again_ but he could fucking stand it if he turned around and Kaleb was looking at him the way _everybody_ looked at him. Like the only part of him that mattered was the broken part. Like all he was was a victim and that very existence was just something to be pitied.

He fucking _hated_ that fucking look.

“Goddammit, Wash, can you just wait two seconds. I’m recovering from a coma and my ass is hanging out of a gown! I can’t run as fast as you!” Jason panted as Wash felt a gentle hand grab his arm. He stilled and look up at his father as he breathed heavily.

“Dad--”

“No old man jokes,” Jason cut him off as he put his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath. “Jesus, I wish I could blame this on the coma. I’ve never been great at running. I think you got that from your mom. At least physically. I have mastered the art of swerving emotionally. Your mom...she was always very straightforward. She’s always been better with you, so if this goes south just remember that I’m just supposed to be the fun parent.”

Wash’s words caught in his throat as he stared at his now fully-standing father.

“I’m not gonna pity you, son.” Jason breathed out, carefully reaching forward to clasp Wash’s shoulder. “I won’t because I know how annoying it is to be pitied.”

“You...what?” Wash stumbled over his words, confused.

“Kaleb and I...our dad wasn’t the best guy. Actually he was the worst. Ever. Of all time.” Jason breathed out and shook his head. “I imagine that you know a little of what he did just from what Kaleb did. I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that. I’ve always known that Kaleb was bad at coping, but--”

“Back up,” Wash held up one hand to stop his father’s apologies as he stared up at him. “You were...hit, too?”

“Yes,” Kaleb gave Wash a humorless smile and used his freehand to gesture at his back. “I even have scars. My dad used to...have this whip...it was--”

“Leather. With all kinds of shit attached to the end.” Wash remembered the feeling keenly as he looked up at his dad, finding reluctant understanding and righteous fury in Jason’s eyes.

“Yeah. So that’s where it went. Here I was hoping that it was burnt to a crisp in hell.”

“But you...you were happy. Before. With everyone. You were always happy. How…?”

“David,” Jason breathed out, an understanding yet soft tone sounding so foreign whenever paired with Jason’s usually joyous and carefree voice. “I know what it feels like right now, and honestly you’re handling it a lot better than I ever did, but it gets better. With time, you start you let go of all of that hate and anger and you feel like you can actually sleep without getting suffocated by nightmares. You start to feel like things will get better and then they do. You’ll fall in love with your life all over again and you’ll grow to appreciate kindness but never ever take it for granted again.

“I had to go through this on my own for years before I met your mother. Thena...she had this amazing ability to whip my ass into shape. She yelled at me,” Jason guided Wash over to a waiting area so that they could both sit down. “She told me to acknowledge that it happened. She wouldn’t let me hide away anymore and...I hated her for it for a month. Then I realized she was right and I asked her out and two months later, we got married in Peru.”

“So...I need to fall in love to get better? But...Tucker and I…” Wash stared up at his dad, confused. Kaleb let out a short laugh and shook his head.

“No, kid. Thena wasn’t the one who pulled me out of my mind. She was the one who banged down the door and called me out, but I had to do the rest. Life, my boy, is not a fairy tale. There is no magic love that can cure all ills--”

“I forgot you were going through a Merlin phase.”

“--It’s not a phase, Mom, it’s who I am. The point, Wash, is that falling in love didn’t make me better. Years of therapy and Thena kicking my ass helped. You helped. Knowing that I couldn’t fuck up anymore, having that responsibility helped. But I had to choose to be happy.” Jason grinned sadly down at his son. “You have to, too. It won’t be easy, but you’ll have to choose to get better. You’ll have to come to terms with everything that’s happened and accept it for what it is--something you can never change.”

Wash looked down at his hands and leaned against his father’s side, feeling lighter than he had in year whenever Jason’s arm came around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “I didn’t handle it very well.”

“Tell me,” Jason murmured into Wash’s hair, thumb rubbing comforting circles into Wash’s shoulder as he listened to Wash. It was like a dam had broken and all Wash could do was cling to his father’s comfort as the entire story came tumbling out of him like word vomit.

“And then I almost kissed Church which was so fucking stupid because Church doesn’t even _like_ me but it felt so _right_ and it was confusing as hell! But then whenever Tucker and I hung out afterward, it was super awkward because I felt horrible expecting him to come clean with me whenever I was holding back, too so I just--”

“Please tell me that you did not just blurt it out,” Jason groused good-naturedly.

“I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault that you and Mom always thought that blurting things out was cute and never taught me how to be tactful!” Wash griped loudly, earning a small laugh from his father. “And he got mad--which I don’t even blame him for--but then I didn’t fucking hear from him for a week! And then suddenly he kept trying to set me and Church up on dates--”

“That boy thinks so lowly of himself,” Jason grimaced as everything about Tucker’s quietness and apatheticness that had been swallowing up his usually sunny disposition became clear.

“It sucked! My boyfriend was trying to set me up with his best friend and I couldn’t talk to him about it because he just decided that talking wasn’t a thing that we should do--which I’m pretty sure he had decided a long fucking time before this! It was infuriating because he was pushing me away and I knew it was because he was hurting and didn’t want to take the chance that I might hurt him, but I can’t stand knowing that he’s feeling so horrible.”

“Oh son, if only you could harness some of that heart and use it to teach yourself tact.”

“And he’s still hurting,” Wash whispered into Jason’s chest. “I think that he thinks that he’s fooling me into thinking that he’s better, but I know that he’s not right. He’ll get this look in his eyes whenever he thinks I’m not looking and it’s...heartbreaking. It’s like...like he’s given up. Like he has nothing else to fight for so he’s just taking the punches. Everyone always screws him over so hard and I think it’s finally getting to him, but he still won’t talk to me. Everyday I get to watch him drift farther and farther away…

“And I’m terrified every day that today...today will be the day he doesn’t come back.”

Jason let out a long breath and squeezed Wash’s shoulders. “I could talk to him, you know. I could see if he’ll open up to me. I know you two are in love but sometimes that makes it harder. The fear that you might reject him is probably debilitating to him. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Wash whispered.

“I wish I could do more.”

_______________

Wash had fallen asleep soon after the pair had meandered back into the hospital room. Melinda and Angela had apologized for letting Wash lie, but Jason shrugged them off. It wasn’t their fault. He asked them to talk to the hospital security about not letting Kaleb around and instructed them to go home and get some rest.

He wanted to talk to Tucker.

After they got an unconscious Wash settled on the vinyl couch, Tucker sat in the plastic chair next to Jason’s bed. He felt torn. He wanted to talk to Jason--wanted to tell him everything.

But his experience with trying to share his feelings with parental figures wasn’t exactly stellar. He could still feel the soreness in his ribs from his father’s steel toe boots this morning.

“Tucker,” Jason gently poked the teenager’s dark hand, startling him out of his train of thought. “Spill.”

Tucker opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t help it whenever words fell out instead. Jason had that effect, apparently. “I don’t know when it went wrong.”

“Before or after _Kaleb_?” Jason hissed the name like it was curse. Tucker shook his head slightly.

“After...I...I think it was after he got out of the hospital. He didn’t want to go straight into living with Melinda and Angela--which was understandable--and my parents were...otherwise engaged, so I offered to let him stay with me for a couple of days. And he did. And if was...fun and domestic and we joked and we were happy and he caught me dancing to pop music while I was making breakfast and he didn’t make fun of me for it. And...it was great, but then...we were making out and it felt great and he seemed to be enjoying it but then he just froze and _I_ triggered him and I should’ve known better, but…

“And after that he started pulling away and it hurt so bad and my parents decided to tune in long enough to notice that he was there so they decided to fucking take away my bed as punishment and it felt like I wasn’t worth shit to any of them before they just kept being horrible and Wash said horrible things to me. So I broke up with him but it hurt so bad, Jason.” Tucker shook his head. “And then I found out that he was smoking _weed_ and it was like losing my parents all over again but it hurt so much more.

“And then he fucking disappeared on what _would’ve been our anniversary_ and I was so worried and came back and shrugged us all off and I was just _done_! I gave up! I decided that it hurt too much to try to love him so I just gave up! And everything just started getting worse. Church started acting weird towards me, I kept on seeing Wash in the halls and at gas stations but it was never _my Wash_ \--never the one who loved me--and my parents started…” Tucker let out a shaky breath and shook his head, trying to dismiss the tears that gathered in his eyes.

He couldn’t cry. He wasn’t a little bitch, he couldn’t cry or his mom find out and, and, and--

“Maybe it was punishment for giving up. Maybe I deserved it--maybe I still do! They try me like shit and it’s horrible but every time I start to feel like I don’t deserve it, it’s like there’s this voice clawing at the back of my mind reminding me of every horrible thing I’ve ever done. And Church started to notice and tried to get me to talk but I _couldn’t_ and the words just wouldn’t come out and for like a week I could barely talk at all but then--”

He could remember the way his father’s wedding ring felt against his cheekbone whenever he didn’t answer him.

He remembered the angry words and dull ache and sharp glares and hard fists.

“I wasn’t allowed to shut up. I wasn’t allowed to speak. I wasn’t allowed to sleep. I wasn’t allowed to stay up all night. I wasn’t allowed to see Church or Wash. I wasn’t allowed to stay in the house for more than four hours. I couldn’t do anything, they jerked me around to watch me fail. And then...then Wash ran away and we thought...we thought that he was gonna commit suicide.”

Jason blinked widely at Tucker, not having known most of his side of the story of the last year. The stunning realization dawned on him that Tucker was hella depressed. And that he had way too much anxiety to even think about telling Wash. No wonder his son was worried.

“He left this vague ass note, and I was pissed. I was angry because I knew that if I started to acknowledge the sad, it would take over. I knew that even if I did find him--if I did stop him--I could never make him love me. I had to resign myself to the fact that he would always mean more to me than I meant to him. But then...then he came home. He came home and he let me hug him and he hugged me back and he apologized and it felt like everything was right in the universe.”

“But then I realized that Wash didn’t deserve to deal with my shit, too. He was recovering and he had no idea, and I wanted to keep it like that. It felt so fragile and he seemed so breakable and I...part of me really just wanted to protect him. But the other part of me wanted protection from him.”

Tucker looked down at his hands, “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if Wash pulled away _after_ I opened up. I hated how hopeless it seemed to try and be there for Wash while constantly fighting against his suffocating...sorrow. And then...then he told me about the burning and I realized just how much he needed help. He didn’t need someone else’s problems stacked onto his own. He needed real help and I was...inadequate. I wasn’t enough and it killed me. But I didn’t want to give up on him and then the summer passed and it was perfect and we went on dates and we were heading towards happiness.”

Tucker sighed heavily and dropped his head down into his hands as he rested his elbows on his legs. “We were starting to be happy and Kaleb just stepped in like “hello, I am here to ruin everything”. He put a knife to my throat and broke my leg and cut Wash’s throat and forced his fucking dick down Wash’s throat and I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t help Wash! I was useless! I fucking passed out and woke up in a comfy hospital bed and Wash was crying because he _felt like it was his fault that I got hurt_! My own fucking parents didn’t come to the hospital for me and I wake up and this asshole is blaming himself for me getting hurt whenever this is exactly what I fucking deserve.”

Tucker was crying now. Fuck. His mom was going to be pissed. “And whenever I got home, they were furious. My parents had, apparently, wanted me to clean the house for them before CPS came by but I wasn’t there so they had to reschedule and I had to be punished. So there I was, with a broken fucking leg, scrubbing the kitchen floor while my mom and dad banged in the living room.

“It was hell. It was all hell, but I held on because I had to help Wash. But I couldn’t. Only Church could and look where that got me. It’s like everything that happens is a sign--a fucking clue from the heavens that--no matter how he try--this isn’t going to end well. He knows that I’m holding back but I can’t...I can’t lose him and I’m scared that if I tell him, that’s what I’ll end up doing--losing him.” Tucker sobbed quietly into his hands as Jason stared at him with wide eyes.

He leaned forward to gently thread his fingers through Tucker’s dread, but abandoned the movement at the sight of Tucker flinching. Hard.

“Tucker,” He murmured quietly, anger and sadness curling up with the suspicion deep in his gut. “Do they hit you?”

Tucker tried to answer, he really did. But the words got stuck somewhere and all he could do was try to make himself smaller. He didn’t want Jason to see him like this. He didn’t want Wash to wake up and see him like this. He didn’t want to _be_ like this.

He hated this.

He hated himself.

Jason’s hands were gentle whenever he leaned forward once more to wrap his arms around Tucker in a hug that he hoped was comforting.

“It’s okay, son,” Jason pressed his lips to the crown of Tucker’s head. “It’s okay to let it all out. It’s okay to cry.”

_"Don't be such a little fucking bitch. Wipe those tears off your ugly mug, boy! You're already a burden, don't be a snotty sniveling one too!"_

“You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve to be safe. I love you, kid, but you’re wrong. This isn’t okay. It’s not okay to treat your kid like they’re trash.”

_”Why didn't you take out the garbage, you piece of shit?"_

_”We didn't ask for you, you're the biggest mess we ever made!”_

“You’re so strong, but you don’t have to go through this alone. You _have_ to talk to somebody or this will just eat you up inside. You need to tell Church and Wash. You need to let them in. And then we’ll get you out of there.”

_”Why don't you just stop talking altogether, no one gives a fuck what you have to say!”_


	21. kill your mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so yeah. uh...good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Cause somebody stole  
> My car radio  
> And now I just sit in silence
> 
> Sometimes quiet is violent  
> I find it hard to hide it  
> My pride is no longer inside  
> It's on my sleeve  
> My skin will scream"  
> -"Car Radio" by Twenty-One Pilots

Jason was officially free and cleared from physical therapy and the hospital. It was a joyous occasion. He was going to stay with Melinda and Angela while he worked on selling the house and buying a new one. Today, though…

Today was just a day to celebrate.

A lot of shit had gone down in the year that Jason was sleeping, but he couldn’t help but admire the way Wash seemed to bounce back from all of it. He would be eternally grateful to Claire and Melinda and Angela for being there for Wash whenever he couldn’t. It felt almost...comforting to know that even whenever he was gone and shit hit the fan, there were always people who could look after his son.

His wonderful, amazing, strong son who had grown so much. His son that...he wasn’t quite sure he knew anymore.

But to hell with that. Wash had changed, yes. That just meant that Jason had to learn all of the changes.

“Okay so, no more relish on hot dogs?” Jason clarified as he turned over a wiener on the grill. They were in Angela and Melinda’s backyard, cooking food while the homeowners flitted around hanging decorations.

“No, Melinda accidentally poisoned him last month,” Angela confirmed over her shoulder, earning an indignant squawk from her wife.

“That was an honest mistake and you know it, asshole!”

“Such strong language. Someone needs to wash their mouth out with soap,” Angela shot back.

Wash snickered as he watched his father stick his tongue out before returning to the burgers. Then Wash sipped his lemonade, and watched with increasing confusion as Angela refused to let Melinda lift any heavy objects. Finally, his curiosity won out. 

"Melinda, did you hurt yourself?" He asked in concern. 

Melinda looked up at him, then looked at Angela and blushed. They seemed to have a silent conversation. 

"Wait until-" Angela started, but was cut off by the slider door opening to reveal Claire, carrying a large bowl of sliced up watermelon. She seemed to notice the questions hanging in the air. She frowned as she moved forward and set the watermelon on the table. Tucker walked in after her, and Wash did a double take. He was walking. Without a cast. Or crutches. Wash looked around- no one seemed surprised by this. Wash felt a horrible guilt roll over him- he'd forgotten today was the day Tucker was getting his cast off. He hated forgetting things when it came to Tucker, he knew how Tucker saw himself. Wash smiled at his boyfriend and decided to pretend he hadn't forgotten. People space things out all the time, he just didn't want Tucker to think he didn't care. It was bad enough that Wash was the one who'd gotten his leg broken, after all. Tucker was sensitive enough lately....

"Did I interrupt something?" She asked. Melinda smiled widely, flushing as he exchanged a look with Angela. Angela wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Well,-" Angela started to say something with a calm demeanor, but Melinda seemed to burst. 

"I'M PREGNANT!" Melinda squeaked, practically jumping up and down in happiness. Wash stared at her. Then stared down at her stomach. Then stared at Angela, who was laughing. 

"OH MY GOD!" Claire practically screeched, running forward to hug them. Jason set the spatula down and walked forward to peck Melinda on the cheek. Tucker moved to clap Angela on the arm. Wash just stood there, blinking as he processed the information. Then his face slowly spread into a huge smile, eyes tearing up. Everyone looked at them, slightly concerned.

"Are you alright? Is something wrong?" Melinda asked, suddenly not so excited looking. Wash shook his head, and took a step forward.

"It's just-" He said, voice tight with emotion. He couldn't stop smiling. He wrapped his arms around Melinda, before kneeling down to put his hands on her stomach. He smiled up at her as he spoke, voice directed at her belly.

"You're going to have the _best_ parents. Trust me, I'm the expert."

Melinda put a hand over her mouth, and when Wash stood back up she practically flung her arms around him. No more words were really needed at that point. 

“We--well, Thena, actually--kept most of the shit that we used for Wash, so don’t you dare buy a thing,” Jason grinned and wrapped his arms around the both of them. “Angela, you get in on this, too! I can’t believe you guys are pregnant--”

“Nope, just Marie. Trust me--I would not be able to handle that shit,” Angela corrected, but gave into the hug. She had never been one to turn down a free hug and group hugs were just that much better. Soon after she joined, she felt Claire’s thin arm wrap around her waist and laughed loudly.

Tucker watched on from where he was leaning against the picnic table that Jason and Wash had put up. He gnawed on his bottom lip and tried not to think about the pang of jealousy that zipped through his chest like lightning. He couldn’t help it--the way Wash was just...surrounded by people-- _parents_ \--who loved him. So much.

He couldn’t help the way that part of him looked at Wash in envy and jealousy. He couldn’t help crossing his arms over his chest and digging his nails into his palms. He couldn’t help turning away from the _family_.

Maybe he was just bitter that Wash had forgotten to pick him up from the hospital and he’d had to bum a ride off of Claire.

Part of him couldn’t help but hate that Wash probably had no idea how fucking special it was to have this.

“Tucker! Get your pale left leg over here!” Angela demanded whenever she saw the look on Tucker’s face. The look of someone who was convinced that they were on the outside looking in.

Tucker gave her an easy grin but shook his head, the polite decline to her invitation getting caught in his throat whenever he tried to tell her.

“Speaking of pale left leg,” Wash grinned and pulled away from the group to walk over to his boyfriend and pull him into a hug that--for the first time in months--was all for comfort and not at all for support. God, that felt better. Wash pulled away enough to kiss Tucker’s forehead a bit forlornly. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it.”

“It’s all good, babe,” Tucker choked out and hoped that Wash didn’t notice how hard the words were. “I wasn’t really thinking that you’d be able to, you and Jason have a lot of catching up to do.”

Wash heart twisted in his chest as he stared down at Tucker. Fuck, here he was--the goddamn reason that Tucker’s leg was broken in the first place and Tucker is telling him that’s fine. Shouldn’t that be enough? Should Wash really be furrowing his eyebrows at the unnaturally flippant tone of Tucker’s voice? Or how his voice seemed to be forced out?

“It’s no excuse. I wanted to be there for you. You’re always supporting me and--”

“It’s fine,” Tucker interrupted Wash and looked up at him for a beat before sighing and looking down. “I want you to spend some time with your dad and I don’t want you to feel guilty about it. I’m good, Wash. I was actually able to do it all by myself.”

“That’s actually not true. I had to hold his hand,” Claire interrupted them as she licked cream cheese glaze off of a strawberry. “It was cute, he got super tense whenever the saw came out.”

Wash’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at Tucker, who was stubbornly looking the other way.

“It was a big saw,” He muttered in defense.

“Do you mind if I borrow Wash for a second, Tucker? You could try some of the dips for the fruits. Pregnant Melinda is an angel with weird cravings but great recipes.”

Tucker gave Claire a flashy smile--all mostly white teeth and false happiness, “I do love me some glazed fruit.”

“Was that a--” Claire narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

“Goddammit.”

Wash smiled, albeit nervously, as Claire led him to the side. Tucker turned and struck up a conversation with Jason, while Claire turned her back on the others and fixed Wash with a serious expression.

“You were supposed to be there. He asked you to go with him, and you said you would. But you didn’t.” She said in a deadpan tone, a hand rising to her hip. 

Wash felt his gut twist, and he grimaced. “I know. I- oh, shit. I’m so- I forgot, I really did. I don’t know how but it completely slipped my mind!” He whispered urgently, starting to wring his hands as guilt washed over him. How could he have forgotten something so important? Tucker rarely asked for anything in this relationship, and the one time he had asked for something, Wash had fucked it up. 

He tried to keep his face from displaying his distress, so the other party goers wouldn’t glance over and notice the turmoil written on it. He caught himself before he dug his thumbnail into his fingers, instead clasping his hands together so that Claire and the others wouldn’t know that in the back of his mind, the image of the lighter hidden in his bathroom cupboard was rising up. He really needed to get rid of that…another thing he’d forgotten, apparently.

Claire sighed, and looked to the side. “I’m not saying it’s your fault for forgetting, but it was a pretty big blunder. We all make mistakes, honey, so don’t think it’s the end of the world. Tucker’s a lot more worked up over it than he lets on, especially with his….mood lately. I suggest you be honest with him, but don’t be hysterical. Make it up to him like any normal attentive boyfriend would.” Claire paused, and cracked a small smile. “Bow chicka wow wow not intended, but take it as you may.”

Wash took a deep breath, and nodded. He let his hands go and forced them to fall to his sides. Claire nodded and turned back around, heading towards the food again. Wash stayed still for a moment, collecting himself. Enjoy the party. Be happy, things are looking up. Make it up to Tucker, and everything will be fine. 

\-----

Wash sighed heavily as he dropped his backpack and collapsed into the plush chair next to Carolina’s--where she was using her free time as an office aid to work on her homework.

“I think I’m gonna take this period to nap, cover me?” Wash asked, flashing her his most sincere puppy dog look.

“You might wanna look over at the line outside of Sheila’s office before you do that.” Carolina pointed in the vague direction of one of the vice principals before going back to her physics homework. Wash furrowed his eyebrows at her before turning and looking at the collection of students--

And seeing an all too familiar face.

“What is he doing here? Did something happen?” Wash asked, anxiety curling up in his stomach as he started to rub his thumb over his fingers. Carolina shrugged, uninterested, and pointed toward Carl--the secretary in the front of the office.

Wash sighed but pulled himself up and crossed the room to stand in front of the gossipy man. “Hey, Carl. What’s going on with the guy outside of Sheila’s office?”

“Oh him?” Carl swirled to look at the kid sitting in the chair, completely still and staring off into space. “That’s Lavernius Tucker. Little smartass--fuck, sorry--smart aleck decided that he wasn’t gonna speak today. His first period teacher brought him in and so far he hasn’t said a word. We’ve been trying to call his parents--because obviously _someone_ needs to smack some sense into that boy, but--hey, wait! Where are you going?”

Wash tuned Carl out as he stared worriedly at his boyfriend. It took him twelve steps to get over to Tucker, and three beats of silence before he tapped Tucker’s hand to get him to notice that he was actually there.

“Hey, dove,” Wash breathed out as he crouched down on the floor in front of Tucker, a bit of the fear that had frozen over his veins melted whenever he saw that Tucker’s eyes were, in fact, focused on him and that he was no longer looking so lost.

So hopeless.

“Hey, can you…” Wash started as he brought one hand up to cradle the side of Tucker’s face. His heart broke whenever Tucker’s eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned into the hand like a touch-starved kitten. “Tucker, can you say anything?”

Tucker’s body language changed immediately, as if a switch flipped inside of him. His spine tensed as he pulled away from Wash’s hand and frowned down at him. Tucker swallowed a couple of times before the tense guard cracked to reveal the sorrow that had been lurking just underneath Tucker’s smile for months.

“Tucker, I need you to say something.” Wash felt like he was going to cry, watching Tucker look so broken in front of him. Watching his boyfriend who had stayed so strong for so long just…

Stop.

“Tucker, please, I need you. I love you, sweetie, and I need to hear your voice,” Wash pleaded, his own voice cracking slightly as he stared up at Tucker. Tucker’s expression rippled slightly--like a pond after a pebble was thrown in--before he leaned into Wash’s hand once more and pressed a feather-light, apologetic kiss to his palm.

“Fuck, you can’t, can you?”

Tucker looked down at Wash through watery eyes before Wash stood. He pushed open Sheila’s door angrily, much to the woman’s surprise.

“He _can’t_ talk! How long has he been sitting here!? You guys just assumed that he was being a stupid teenager without even talking _to_ him instead of _at_ him! You guys--you all just take one look at him and decide that he’s a low priority!” Wash yelled at her, ignoring the fact that she probably had a lot of important work to do.

Apparently Wash was a protective boyfriend. Suck it, Sheila.

“Excuse me, Mr. Washington, but I’ve been trying--”

“To get in contact with his parents? His parents who only spend time yelling at him whenever they’re not ignoring him? You want to send him off to his parents whenever he’s like _this_!?” Wash growled, stepping forward whenever Sheila stood.

“That’s what I have to do. He has no emergency contact--”

“He does, it’s my dad--”

“Who is still in the hospital--”

“Discharged two days ago.”

Sheila huffed and threw her hands into the air in a frustrated manner before pointing a firm finger at Wash. “You, get out of my office and get his stuff together. I want a doctor’s note by Wednesday about this. I’ll call your dad and let him know, but David Washington, if you _ever_ barge into a faculty member’s office like this again, you will be kicked out of this school, do you understand me!?”

Wash clenched his jaw before nodding curtly and turning on his heels. He sat down in the chair next to Tucker for a minute, wanting to let Tucker in on what was going on before going off the get his work. He took a deep breath before he freaked out and began to try to calm himself. He was no use to Tucker if he was an emotional mess.

Without thinking about it, he rubbed his thumb over his index finger as he stared up at the ceiling. He took the time to collect his thoughts. He almost jumped out of his skin whenever gentle--if hesitant--fingers threaded themselves through Wash’s. He looked over at Tucker to find those impossible eyes staring up at him worriedly.

“Don’t worry, dove,” Wash leaned forward and brushing his lips over Tucker’s forehead. “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

\-----

Wash ran his hands over his face as he slid down the bathroom door that he’d locked behind him. It had all happened in a blur. Jason had picked them up and tried to get Tucker to respond, but Tucker hadn’t. They’d gotten home and Angela had had to hold Melinda back from fussing over him, convinced he needed space. The minute they’d gotten home, Tucker had curled up on the couch and fallen asleep. He hadn’t even started snoring, just, boom. Out like a light. 

Wash groaned, letting his head fall back against the door. He knew this was his fault. It was his fault his parents had taken away Tucker’s bed. It was his fault that Tucker was still afraid of Wash not wanting him, after all that bullshit he pulled. It was his fault that Tucker’s leg got broken in the first place. It was his fault Tucker had thought he didn’t love him, fucking, wanting to kiss Church that one time and then _shouting it out_. It was his fault for fucking forgetting to do the one thing Tucker asked of him, which can’t have been good for the fucked up self esteem Tucker’s constantly battling. God, why couldn't he have just done something right for Tucker, just this once?

Tucker deserved a boyfriend who didn’t lash out at him during his grieving period, a boyfriend who didn’t neglect him and cause his parents to hurt him, a boyfriend who didn’t fucking fuck up constantly. His dad, Melinda, Claire, Angela….they all deserved a better Wash. A Wash that didn’t still have horrible nightmares, a Wash that could actually ask for help, a Wash that could walk down the street without flinching as every car passed, a Wash that didn’t hurt them and then run away and leave them some fucking horrible, heartbreaking, _bullshit_ suicide note. 

 

Wash stared at the cupboard above his kitchen sink, skin itching as pain twisted under his heart. They all deserved someone who didn’t literally _burn their own flesh_ instead of coping with emotions like a normal person.

Wash stood up and crossed the bathroom, reaching behind the pill bottles and toothpaste and pulling out the black lighter. He sat down on the toilet and rolled up his sleeve. Then he rolled his sleeve back down. Then he reached for his pant leg- then pulled his hand back. He rolled the lighter over in his hands, warring inside his own chest. God, he shouldn’t do this, but he really wanted to. He knew it would relieve the pressure in his chest, clear his head, give him the pain he deserved….no! No, no, no. He didn’t deserve pain. Did he? No, he didn’t. He shouldn't do this.

He flicked the lighter on and stared at the flame intently, as he turned it horizontally and started to heat up the metal, eyes transfixed by the all too familiar movement. He rubbed his arm against his thigh to push the sleeve up, getting the inside of his arm ready for when he decided the metal was hot enough. 

Then, after what seemed like an eternity of almost doing it, he jerked back. He felt a burst of anger and self hatred, and he threw the lighter hard against the wall. He jerkily yanked his sleeve down and crossed his arms over his chest. The lighter just clattered to the floor. He stared at it for a long moment before standing and stomping on it, shattering the cheap plastic. The fluid started to spread out, but he couldn’t care. He had to get out of this bathroom. 

After something like this he was supposed to go ask someone he trusted for help, confide in them, and let them comfort him. According to his therapist, and Church. But Church was out of town and Tucker was asleep. Even if he was awake, there were five thousand reasons why he really shouldn’t go to him for help right now. Melinda and Angela and Claire…..he loved them all, but he just didn’t feel like he could confide in them about this. At least, not yet. He paced back and forth in front of his bed. That left his dad. His gut curled up in a ball just thinking about going to his father and trying to explain that he’d almost just given in to pressing hot metal against his skin. He didn’t want his dad to know how fucked up he was. He already knew everything that _happened_ , but what if his opinion of Wash changed after he got an idea of just how broken apart Wash’s insides where? 

Then again, it was his father. The man who’d he’d always went to. Who knew him better than anyone. Well, he used to. Wash swallowed thickly and headed for the door, and forced his feet to carry him down the hallway towards the room his father as staying in. With a shaking hand he knocked, heart hammering under his ribs. 

Jason opened the door and looked down at Wash with an easy grin that soon melted off of his face whenever he saw the state that his son was in.

Without saying a word, he pulled Wash into a hug. Wash froze, tensing at the unexpected contact before relaxing into the contact.

“It’s my fault,” Wash choked out, wrapping his arms around his father as tears finally started falling. “It’s all my fault. I’m the actual worst and I kept ignoring him or forgetting or pushing him--”

“Wash,” Jason sighed out, pulling away to give Wash his _I-understand-why-you-feel-like-this-but-you’re-so-wrong_ face. “You have to realize that you are not anywhere near to the only thing going on in that boy’s life.”

Wash’s eyebrows furrowed as the words hit him like a slap to the face. “Fuck...I...I don’t _know_ what else is going on. He wouldn’t--oh god, he wouldn’t ever talk to me--”

“He talked to me,” Jason removed one hand from around Wash’s shoulders to mess up Wash’s hair. “His parents...bad things have been happening. Bad things that make me sick to my stomach and angrier than the Hulk, but it wasn’t my place to tell you. I told him that he needed to let you in.”

Wash thought back to how Tucker had been so nervous to ask Wash to go with him to get the cast off. How Tucker had shuffled around a bit before asking if Wash would want to go do something afterwards to celebrate Tucker’s freedom from the cast. How even after Wash had brought up the party, Tucker had shrugged and told Wash that walking home together and just talking seemed like a good idea to him.

Wash had just thought that Tucker wanted to spend time with him.

“Oh god,” Wash breathed out. “I think...I think he was gonna tell me after his doctor appointment. After he got his cast off. But I forgot about it--fuck, with his wrecked self esteem, that was probably me telling him that he’s not worth the effort, fuck, fuck--”

Wash’s dad tapped the side of Wash’s forehead to get his attention. “You messed up, Wash. I’m not going to tell you that you didn’t. You’ve probably been the person who hurt Tucker the most. But you’re also the one who’s helped him the most. You’re the one who constantly shows and tells him how much you love him. You’re the one who’s there for him whenever nobody else is. And he’s always there for you.

“You already got your opportunity to fall apart, Wash. And Tucker was right there next to you the entire time. Tucker wouldn’t even let himself mourn Thena because of how much he knew you needed him. Was it healthy? Absolutely not. But he did what he had to to be able to be there for you and now, he needs you to do the same. After everything that’s happened to him? I think he’s earned the right to fall apart for a while.” Jason gave Wash his serious look. “And I don’t think it’s your fault. I don’t think that any one thing could get Tucker like this.”

Wash paused and considered that. Jason was right. On all points. But mostly...mostly how Wash needed to be there for Tucker now. 

“You should go. Be with him whenever he wakes up.” Jason nudge him in the direction of the stairs. “But, please, whenever you feel like shit, don’t hesitate to tell me. I have no problems with smothering you in love.”

Wash gave Jason a small smile and turned. He walked down the stairs and into the living room where he found his boyfriend tossing and turning restlessly on the couch, brows furrowed and mouth hanging open in a silent scream. He gently sat down next to Tucker’s side to keep him from fall off and ran his hand through Tucker’s dreads--smiling softly whenever the touch caused Tucker’s sleeping body to relax a bit.

He stood to reposition himself. He sat down on one end of the couch and gently lifted Tucker’s head to put it in his lap. He ran his finger’s through Tucker’s hair and down his warm cheeks and neck, watching as Tucker’s face relaxed to as close to peaceful as Wash had ever seen on him.

Wash watched as Tucker’s eyes opened lazily, his face twisting into a confused one as one hand lazily reached up and brushed away a stray tear from Wash’s cheek. He opened his mouth to try to say something, but whenever no sound came out, his face crumpled even more.

“Don’t worry, love.” Wash leaned down to press a kiss to Tucker’s forehead. “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to fall apart a little bit. I promise that it’s okay. You were so strong for so long--through so much. Please, let me be strong for you until you’re okay again.”

Tucker stared up at Wash like he was the ocean and Tucker wanted so badly to drown before sitting up and kissing the corner of the blond’s mouth in a silent thank you. He curled up in Wash’s lap and nuzzled his face into his neck. Wash brought his arms up to support Tucker and brushed gentle kisses to the top of Tucker’s head.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here for you.” Wash murmured as he rubbed Tucker’s back comfortingly. Tucker’s shoulders stuttered as he cried silently--letting everything else go so that he could hold onto Wash desperately.


	22. I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT I'M FEELIN 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Lobster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's too early in the morning for me to track down some goddamn catchy song. go listen to the damn playlist.

Jason jumped out of his skin whenever he felt the cool water bottle pressed against his arm. He turned and gave Tucker his full-on grumpy face, ignoring his other son’s giggling. “You are going to give me a heart attack one day. I’m putting a bell on you!”

Tucker raised an eyebrow before shrugging and walking over to his boyfriend, who was leaning against the sickeningly white wall that was one of the walls outlining the Washington’s new living room. Jason had decided to move out of the old house--citing too many memories--and moved into a small, craftsman style house with absolutely no personality.

_”It’ll be a clean slate, guys! Trust me, it’ll be all ours before you even notice that I’m putting up pictures!”_

“Thanks, dove,” Wash smiled warmly down at Tucker before taking the offered water bottle. “You still good to help us?”

Tucker shrugged and turned to lean against the wall next to Wash, opening his own bottle before looking up at Wash and nodding.

“You don’t have to, you know. You could just watch us work and make a bunch of dirty jokes,” Wash knocked his shoulder against Tucker’s playfully, trying to get some sort of response that mirrored that of speaking!Tucker’s.

Tucker let out a huff of air that was mute!Tucker for a small laugh and leaned his head against Wash’s shoulder. He held out his hand, palm up, and waiting until Wash put his own hand on top of Tucker’s. Tucker set down his water bottle and turned Wash’s hand so that it was resting palm up on top of Tucker’s. He used his free hand to begin writing letters into Wash’s skin.

_H-A-P-P-Y T-O H-E-L-P_

“I’m sure you are,” Wash ignored the way his heart broke a little every time Tucker did the finger spelling and leaned forward to kiss him lightly. 

Tucker smiled, happy to relax into Wash's warmth. Despite everything, this he could still enjoy.

\------

After a few hours of working on unloading boxes, Jason set a vase down on the table and then out his hands on his hips.

"We've all worked hard today, how about we go out to eat?" Jason suggested. Wash perked up instantly. Tucker shrank a little, but nodded anyways.

"Great, let's go to Red Lobster! My treat." Jason exclaimed in excitement, heading out the door. Wash went to follow, but a tug on his sleeve caused him to turn back around. Tucker looked a little pale, and he was giving was a look halfway between pleading and fear.

"It'll be alright, Tucker, you know my dad's loaded. This is just another dinner to him, so don't sweat it, alright babe?" Wash suggested. It was a slight lie- Jason had a lot of money but rarely went outside the middle class price range. 

Tucker hesitantly nodded, and stuck his hands in his pockets. Wash wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Dude, _food_. I'm already salivating." Wash moaned in excitement. Tucker smiled in a agreement, although the smile was...dim. 

\--------

This is so fucking stupid. He shouldn't be ashamed to eat this meal but he _is._

It's pathetic, but he knows that he doesn't belong here. Because he's pathetic. Letting Jason of _all_ people spend this much money on _him_. He didn't deserve it, with all the trouble he'd caused. They were only pretending to care. If he really did just...disappear, they'd be sad for a little then they'd all keep on being happy together. Wash had so many loving, fawning, happy parental figures. His heart ached- it just didn't seem fair. His heart twisted and he tried to point to his wallet, and then his plate. Just his plate wouldn't cost much, he should pay for it, he ate it. 

"For the last time, Tucker, you're not paying." Jason responded to his gestures. Tucker'd shoulders sagged. Wash felt rigid next to him, but he was smiling brightly. 

"Thanks so much for helping with the house, babe. Thanks so much for dinner, dad." He said to them sincerely, as if this would resolve the tension.

Jason nodded. "You're very welcome, beloved sons of mine. Now eat up." He urged. 

Tucker tried to ignore how his stomach was welcoming the concept of the fancy free meal, but in the end, it won. He took a bite of his pasta--almost moaning at the melody of flavors. He’d never eaten anything with lobster in it before, but it was great. Beside him, he could practically _feel_ Wash looking at him excitedly. He swallowed his bite and turned to look at his puppy dog of a boyfriend.

“Do you like it?” Wash asked, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. It was adorable.

Tucker gave Wash a strained smile and nodded before leaning into Wash’s side slightly. He knew how worried Wash was, but he also knew that it would pass.

Wash wasn’t stupid. He’d figure out how much of a burden Tucker was. He’d figure out that his feelings were born from convenience and one that convenience ended?

So would his feelings.

So Tucker leaned into Wash any chance he could get. He held Wash’s hand and kissed him and he committed the feelings to memory. He’d use those memories to get through “punishments” from his father. He’d use those feelings to stave off his disappearance for as long as possible.

Wash would get over him. Probably move on with Church. There would be a mourning period--as there always was--but in the end, it’d be a relief. It’d be a relief because everyone would realize how much better life would be without Tucker there. Without having to pay for Tucker or listen to him babble or hear about his parents or see the bruises.

One of his hands moved to his side self consciously--as if to shield the bruised rib from anyone’s eyes.

He zoned back into the conversation--Jason and Wash were debating the color scheme for Wash’s room--and watched Jason and Wash argue animatedly.

“Okay, but _just_ blue would be boring as hell!” Wash groused.

“And fucking _yellow_ accents would be oh so much better?” Jason shot back.

“I _like_ yellow, thank you very much!”

“Tucker, what do you think?” Jason turned to ask, patiently waiting whenever Tucker held up one finger and got his phone out. He watched as Tucker pulled up a drawing app and filled the page with a light cobalt blue before adding light yellow as a tasteful accent before putting the phone down for both Washingtons to view his work.

“See? Tucker agrees with me!” Wash gave his father a withering glare before turning to kiss his boyfriend on the forehead, grinning wickedly whenever he saw the small smile and light blush on Tucker’s face. He closed out Tucker’s phone and gave it back.

“He did not agree with you, your yellow was bright and ridiculous,” Jason folded his arms over his chest in an obvious challenge.

Tucker held up his left hand, stick his index finger and thumb out to make an ‘L’ shape at Jason.

“Backwards for me, kid.” Jason reminded Tucker from his place across the table. Tucker frowned and put his left hand down to stick his right up and flip Jason the bird, the resulting booming laugh echoed across the restaurant.

“Okay, children, calm down,” Wash chuckled whenever a waiter sent him a dirty glare. Tucker tensed and sunk down into his chair. “We are obviously too awesome for this place and should go get some ice cream and return to the house.”

“Tucker and I aren’t finished,” Jason whined at Wash before turning to Tucker. “See? This is why you’re my favorite son. You don’t try to tell me what to do.”

Tucker winced at the stabbing insecurity from the jibe--which he was almost 100% sure didn’t have anything to do with his newfound muteness, but it still hurt. He flashed Jason an unaffected smiled, which seemed to fool him well enough.

That is, until Wash kicked him harshly under the table and gestured to his throat.

The two of them proceeded to have an embarrassingly obvious conversation about Tucker.

Right in front of him.

_You guys know that I’m mute, not blind, right?_

Jesus. Christ. This was going _horribly._ Wash kept his hands on the table, a ways away from each other, to resist the urge to do that stupid finger thing. Jason looked troubled, expression dark as he swirled his fork through his pasta. Tucker had stopped eating altogether, which was a shame, because Wash knew he'd really been enjoying it regardless of his inhibitions. The tension in the air was practically unbearable. Why couldn't they all just be happy? The tension crawled up his throat and suddenly it was hard to breath. Why couldn't he fix this? Why wasn't he enough to make them happy, why wasn't he enough to make Tucker open up? 

_Because you hurt him, and you lied to him, and you ran away and broke his heart._

Wash stood abruptly, skin crawling and heart pounding.. "I-I need to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back." 

With that, he fled to the restaurant bathroom and leaned against the stall wall. He needed to catch his breath. He was just so on edge lately that he couldn't help but feel like everything was constantly about to fall apart. Which was stupid. He wished he could just be enough to help Tucker heal from wherever was haunting him. He wished he was enough to help his father actually get to sleep at night. His dad thought he hadn't noticed the insomnia, but he had. Coffee was running low in the Washington house.

He just wanted to make things better. He'd fucked then up so badly, he should make them better, shouldn't he? Not that it was his fault- well, but- god, he didn't know. 

He sighed and rolled his neck. How pathetic, hiding in a bathroom trying not to scratch at his skin just because of some awkward tension. 

Wash sighed and went to the sink, turning the water as cold as it could go and delving his hands in, drinking in the pain of the crisp, cold water hitting his skin and attempting to numb him. Something not so harmful that helped him to focus on the real world. Church would be proud. 

As pins and needles plagued his hands, the door opened. Wash looked up to see Tucker, looking concerned. Was forced a smile.

"Hey, babe. What's up?" He asked. Of course, Tucker didn't reply. He just moved forward and laid a hand on Wash's shoulder, raising a concerned eyebrow before looking down at the water, where his hands were turning red. Wash pretending to be scrubbing them off, then turned off the sink.

"I've just got to go to the bathroom and then I'll be out, okay? I promise, I'm alright. How about you go wait at the table, so my dad doesn't come looking for us and they think we dined and dashed, alright?" Wash offered. Tucker knew when he was being told to leave, so he nodded slowly and turned back around, heading out of the bathroom. 

Tucker sat back down at the table and chanced a glance up at Jason, who was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and staring contemplatively up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry for the little slip of the tongue earlier.” Jason gave Tucker a weary smile before scraping his hand down his face. “There actually isn’t really a guide to this. I wish there was. I wish that you two were like the engines that I work on. Temperamental sometimes, but...whenever you pay attention it’s easy to see what the problem is. And whenever you know the problem, it’s pretty easy to fix. I’ve never really...been good with people. I’m social, don’t get me wrong, but I always seem to say the wrong things. And I don’t want to say the wrong things to you. I don’t want to be just another person who saw you hurting and turned their backs on you or made it worse.”

Jason sighed heavily and leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he pinned Tucker with a determined stare. “I know I’m not good at this, but I want to try. I want to be there for you, Tucker. I want you to know that if you let me, I want to be your father in every way that counts. I wouldn’t mind you moving in--I would actually encourage it because I hate the people you live with and the neighborhood that you live in. I wouldn’t mind treating you to dinner. I wouldn’t mind laughing too loudly at your jokes--whenever you want to make them again. I just...you need to know that no matter what--hell, even if you and Wash break up--I still love you like another son. You’re part of this family. Same way Claire is.”

Tucker bit down hard on his bottom lip and stared up at Jason. He nodded once before discreetly pushing away the tear that stubbornly fell down his cheek and swallowing thickly.

Jason grinned and leaned over the table to pull at one of Tucker’s dreads affectionately. “I love you, kid.”

Tucker opened his mouth, but the words got stuck. He looked down at his hand and folded down his middle and ring finger to show Jason the sign for ‘I love you’ in response.

They both ignored the misty way Jason looked at him.

Wash finally returned to the table, just in time to watch Tucker attempt not to wince as his father paid the bill. He assumed that they had spoken- at least, somewhat- because the tension in the air was slightly more relaxed. Which was a relief. God, he was a nervous wreck.

"That was a really great meal, thank you, dad." Wash said cheerily. Tucker nodded in agreement.

"You're more than welcome."


	23. the great escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> close to the climax of the story, tbh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tonight will change our lives  
> It's so good to be by your side  
> But we'll cry  
> We won't give up the fight  
> We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs  
> And they'll think it's just 'cause we're young  
> And we'll feel so alive
> 
> Throw it away  
> Forget yesterday  
> We'll make the great escape  
> We won't hear a word they say  
> They don't know us anyway  
> Watch it burn  
> Let it die  
> 'Cause we are finally free tonight"  
> -"The Great Escape" by Boy Like Girls

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Wash asked Church as he followed the other boy up to Tucker's door.

"I'm sick of this, I know that something's wrong, more than usual. I'm not letting him hide it from us anymore." Church said, and reached under the frayed doormat and pulled a key out. Wash blinked. He hadn't even known that was there. 

"I think this counts as breaking in, shouldn't we knock?" He hissed as Church unlocked the door, glancing around to see if anybody was watching.

"Bullshit, I've got a key, I'm not breaking anything." Church muttered, throwing the door open. No one was in the living room. 

They headed down the hall, and Church froze. Wash looked over his shoulder, and also went still.

Tucker's door was closed, and locked. It was locked by a leather belt tied around it, with the other end hooked on a crude nail pounded on the wall. 

Church balled his hands into fists, and scrambled to pull a sharp razor blade out of his wallet. Wash blanched at the fact that someone who supposedly didn't self harm anymore carried razor blades. But now really wasn't the time to bring it up, so he just watched as Church cut through the ratty belt, and ripped the door open. 

Tucker shot up from where he was laying, curled protectively into himself. His eyes widened whenever he saw the two of them and he stood, a low pitched whine coming from the back of his throat. He ran over and started trying to push Church out of the room while shaking his head.

“The fuck do you think--” Church began to growl out, freezing whenever he saw the way Tucker tensed and flinched at the tone.

“Tucker,” Wash breathed out, moving past Church to stand in front of Tucker. He brought his hands up to do something--cradle Tucker’s face, pull him out of that goddamn room, strangle him for trying to shrug this off--but aborted the motion halfway through, leaving them hovering in the air between them. “What is happening?”

Tucker screwed his eyes shut, letting Church and Wash take that minute to study the colorful array of bruises on his cheek and neck. He opened his bloodshot eyes and shook his head at the two of them, his hands moving around in undecipherable motions.

“Is it your parents?” Church asked, serious for once in his life. Tucker clenched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling--praying for patience--before huffing and looking back at the ground. He nodded curtly, refusing to look at either of them.

“Is this...normal?” Wash choked out, looking around them at the disarray that was Tucker’s room--what looked like a dent in the wall the size of Tucker’s shoulder, the box of ace bandages and first aid supplies next to the emptied dresser, clothes that seemed to be coming from a duffel bag strung out all over the floor, a broken lamp, still no bed.

Tucker nodded once more and took a step back whenever Wash clenched his fist.

“I’m gonna kill them,” Church growled out, making Tucker wince and wrap his arms around himself. He shook his head hard, opening his mouth to protest but only getting a squeak out at the sound of the front door opening.

Wash heard more than saw Tucker's parents coming as they giggled and tripped over themselves down the hall, and the smell of alcohol rolled down the hallway before them. The giggles turned to angry silence the minute they noticed the door was open, and suddenly his father as barreling into the room.

"What in gods name are you doing here? Get the fuck out of my house!" He exclaimed. Tucker seemed to shrink in his presence, and Church reeled on him, livid. 

"WHAT IN GODS NAME ARE YOU DOING BEATING YOUR GIFT OF A SON?" Church exclaimed. 

His mother, leaning in the doorway, started to laugh hysterically, clutching her stomach. Wash just stood there, watching with a cold hand around his heart that seemed to prevent it from beating. 

His father's face twisted in a fury beyond words, eyes blind with a haze of hatred, lips shaky and pale. His fingers curled inward, seeking themselves out in a show of solidarity against the offending presence. And without even the courtesy of a verbal address, the taught fist rose up, poised in a proclamation of rage. Eager knuckles arced downward towards the boy in front of him, who made no signal to show he had the intent of moving out of the way. All eyes followed the sailing fist with such a fervor that it shocked all of them when the fist stopped in midair, as if it had hit a brick wall.

The brick wall in question was named David Washington. His pale fingers had wrapped around the man's wrist, halting the fist in its tracks. The eyes full of hatred shifted to the right to make a shocked eye contact with Wash's eyes. Eyes that were hard and unyielding, riveting in their utter surety. 

"You are nothing." Wash said, voice like steel, echoing in the ears of everyone who heard it.   
"You have done nothing but waste away, absorbed in each other's hideousness. The only thing you have ever done _right_ in your worthless existence was conceived Lavernius Tucker. You will both waste away to nothingness and no one will miss you, no one will care, you have contributed nothing to this world except him. He is your only legacy. And he is a great one. He is the only good thing thing you've ever done. I suggest you don't ruin that. I'm going to take him. And you are going to let us go, and never speak to us again. Never touch him again. Never tell him he's nothing again when you are the one who's hollowed your own heart out. Step aside and never even _look_ at him again, because he is leagues greater than you'll ever be." 

Tucker’s parents passed unsure looks at each other before a wide grin covered his mother’s face. “Hell, at least now we won’t have to deal with him.”

Decision made, the couple walked out of Tucker’s bedroom. And hopefully, out of his life.

Church’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop in his mission to put all of Tucker’s spilled clothes back into the duffel on the ground. Whenever it had become clear that Wash had the parents handled and that Tucker...well, wasn’t in operating “mode” so to say, Church decided to make himself useful. He folded Tucker’s last shirt and shoved it into the bag before looking around for the rest of his clothes.

And then promptly remembering that _oh yeah!_ Two thirds of a duffel bag were really all of the clothes that Tucker owned.

“Wash, make sure that he can walk. He doesn’t need to be okay, but he does need to get out of here. I’m gonna do another sweep and see if we missed anything of his, but…”

“I know,” Wash frowned at Church and walked over to his boyfriend. At some point during the confrontation, Tucker had backed up to the wall and curled up in a ball next to his dresser. Protecting himself. Wash dropped down onto his knees in front of Tucker and gently tapped the back of his hand.

Tucker flinched and looked up at Wash--eyes wide and scared and breaking Wash’s heart. He looked around hesitantly before looking back at Wash.

“They’re gone. If you still want to, you can come stay with us, now. But, dove, they can’t hurt you anymore. I promise,” Wash gently held out his hand to Tucker palm up. The universal _take my hand_ gesture. Tucker stared down at it and opened his mouth, but--once again--nothing came out. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to say anything. You don’t need to be okay.”

Tucker’s eyes flickered back up to Wash’s at the impossibly gentle tone in his voice.

“I love you. I love you whenever you can’t say what you want, I love you whenever you can’t stop talking. Nothing is going to change this--us. You don’t need to be okay to love me back. You just have to get out of here. And you can. All you need to do,” Wash lowered his voice down to a whisper, as if speaking too loud would shatter this moment. “Is take my hand.”

Tucker reached out, hesitantly brushing his fingers over Wash’s before more confidently fitting his hand into place. Wash grinned at him like Tucker had just given him a precious gift and it made Tucker feel...nice. Warm. Safe. Wash stood and used their joined hands to pull Tucker up with him.

Wash led Tucker out of the house for the last time and over to the sleek black car that Church had waiting for them. He hesitated for a second before pulling Tucker into a fierce hug.

“I’m so sorry,” Wash mumbled into Tucker’s neck whenever he felt feather-light hands settle on his back. He tried not to let his anger shine through--anger at Tucker’s parents, at Tucker’s neighborhood, the drugs, at himself. He tried not to let Tucker know how fucking furious Wash was that _he_ had ever made Tucker feel like he could come to him with something let this.

Tucker made a soft sound in the back of his throat and traced a question mark into Wash’s back, making the blond pull away.

“I’m sorry for not noticing. I’m sorry that Church was the one who had to pull my head out of my ass, I’m sorry that you had to go through this, I’m sorry that you couldn’t tell me--or let me know, sorry--” Wash started, but was cut off by Tucker putting a finger to his lips.

Tucker battled with his throat, trying to force the words out--even as they wouldn’t come. He huffed to himself and pulled his finger away from Wash to grab his hand and flip it palm up. Tucker used his pointer finger to start writing.

“‘D-I-D N-O-T U T-O K-N-O’--Tucker…” Wash sighed and looked down at his boyfriend, who was now studiously avoiding eyes contact. “I--”

_C-A-N W-E G-O N-O-W_

Wash let out a sigh, but looked up at the sight of Church exiting the house with a mostly-full duffel bag. “Yes, we can leave. But don’t think that this is the end of that.”

They left without any trouble, and the ride back was full of a heavy silence. Tucker held onto Wash's hand and stared straight down at his lap the whole time. Church had his arms crossed, and his eyes bore into the back of the seat in front of him. Wash spent some time looking at the two of them before he just turned to stare out the window, biting his lip. He felt like hot anger was roiling underneath his skin, and he tried to shove it down. It made his chest tight and skin tingle, and his eyes seemed....hard. 

His new house finally rolled into view, and the relief he felt did nothing to quench the anger. It seemed to burn like bile in his throat. Church carried the duffle bag while Wash led Tucker inside, and had him sit on the coach.

"The upstairs bedroom next to mine is for him." Wash told Church. Church nodded and headed up the stairs to drop off the bag. Wash turned to look at Tucker, who's eyes were following Church with a slight dip in his brow.

"There was a cheaper house, closer to the school, that my dad could have bought. But he bought this one because he wanted a bedroom for you. He's not very subtle on the whole wanting you here thing. He's gonna be excited." Wash told Tucker.

"Excited for what?" Jason's voice said from the hallway doorway. 

Wash turned to address his father. "Tucker is coming to live with us. Permanently." He stated in a hard voice, trying to maintain his calm. Jason raised an eyebrow, and walked forward to look at the boy on the couch. He immediately took in the bruises, and his eyes widened. 

"They-" He started to say, hands balling into fists.

"I took care of them. They're out of the picture." Wash snapped. Jason looked at him, slightly surprised. 

"I kinda hope that means you killed them." He mused.

Wash turned his head away.

"Not quite. I'm going to start dinner." He said curtly, and headed into the kitchen as Jason sat next to Tucker. He knew they would talk. Jason always knew what to say, and Tucker had always opened up to him and listened to him before. Even if he couldn't exactly talk. 

Wash pulled out ingredients and angrily began to chop things as he breathed in deep, mind reeling. He was so fucking angry a Tucker's good for nothing parents. They'd gone from ignoring him to abusing him? What kind of bullshit....

He was angry at himself for not noticing sooner. And he was angry at Tucker, kind of....no, not at Tucker. He was insanely angry at _himself_ for hurting Tucker so badly that he didn't trust him anymore. When Wash had been the one being beaten and scared out of his mind, he'd turned to Tucker. Tucker had saved him. Tucker had been there for him. But when it was the other way around, Tucker would rather let it go on then open up to Wash? He knew there were probably more factors but....Wash couldn't shake the feeling that if he hadn't been so fucking stupid and horrible to Tucker, if he hadn't ran away and left some stupid suicide note, then Tucker would have told him about this before it came to this sort of climax. 

This knowledge leads to a familiar downward spiral of guilt and shame, and his skin starts to crawl. He slammed the fridge and scowled. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he hurt the people he loved? 

_You were in pain and grieving._ The logical part of him argued.

 _Just like Kaleb was, when he hurt you._ Another voice states, sending a shock of coldness down his spine. Wash stood stock still, as the chicken sizzled in the pan and the pasta simmered.

He reached out a hand to grip the counter, biting the insides of his cheeks. He pushed all the self hatred and shame and guilt away and did his best to focus on making a good meal. That's the least he can do. 

Tucker blinked up at Jason and tried to hold in the anger and guilt and sorrow that had shrouded over him from the minute Wash told him that his parents couldn’t hurt him anymore. The relief, the amazement, the disbelief, the hope--they were all so palpable, so easy to let in. But if this was all somehow not real? If Tucker somehow woke up back in that house?

These emotions would kill him.

These emotions had the undisputable power to _crush_ him.

Jason wordlessly took a step and pulled Tucker in, wrapping his arms around Tucker in a protective hug.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jason whispered against the top of Tucker’s head. “You feel horrible right now and maybe you’re a little in shock, but whatever they did...I won’t let them do it again. You have my word.”

Jason’s word. That was new. That was something that Tucker respected. Not that he would’ve thought that Church and Wash would lie to him, but Jason was different. Jason had never lied to Tucker. Jason was always, _always_ protective and attentive in a way that parents were. Jason acted like it was his job to keep Tucker safe. Jason _was_ safe. Safe in a way that...nothing else--no _one_ else--was. Jason would never break Tucker’s heart, even on accident. Jason would never push Tucker away.

In every way that it mattered, Jason was the only father that Tucker had ever had.

Which was the excuse that Tucker told himself for what he did next. For the way that Tucker fell apart in Jason’s arms, the way he let the adrenaline crash and sorrow and relief wash over him like a violent wave of uncontrollable emotion. For the way that Tucker grabbed fistfuls of Jason’s shirt, shoved his face into the crook of Jason’s neck, and just...sobbed.

For the way that Tucker finally let himself cry and scream and sob and shake and-

And fall apart.

And Jason held on for him. Jason held him together, rubbed his back, pressed fatherly kisses to the crown of Tucker’s head, and just listened. He guided Tucker over to the couch, he sat down with him, he didn’t try to quell the tears and sorrow with platitudes and promises. He listened to every sob and unspoken word. He didn’t get angry at Tucker’s parents--not in the way that Wash clearly was--or at least didn’t show it. He was just there.

For Tucker.

Like he always promised he would be.

Jason didn’t turn his back on Tucker, or mock him for being so emotional. He was a rock--silent and supportive and calm while volcano Tucker erupted around him.

After what felt like hours, but could’ve been as little as ten minutes, Tucker’s screams had quieted to sob which had quieted to cries which had quieted to sniffles. He was still shaking--like a leaf in the wind--and he was still hiding his face in Jason’s chest--like that could block out the world--but he was calming down.

Which was more than Tucker could say for the past couple of months, really.

“Don’t feel guilty for falling apart,” Jason patted one hand against Tucker’s head. “I know how you think, kid, and I know your next step is to think that you dragged us into this. You didn’t make me become your father, I chose this. It’s okay to fall apart around me, Tuck-Tuck, I’ve got you.”

Tucker nodded, tired of the sickening _emotions_ that had been swirling around him like the wind just before a tornado. He pulled away from Jason’s chest and nodded to himself once more before wiping his face on his sleeve.

“You’re safe, kid.” Jason told Tucker gently, ducking down a bit to catch his eyes. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you are safe. And no one-- _no one_ \--is going to lay a hand on you again. Not while I’m around, do you hear me?”

Tucker rolled his eyes and nodded, reaching forward to grab the pad and pen on the coffee table--already full of half written phrases from him. He scribbled on the pad quickly before handing it over to Jason.

_I’m mute, not deaf._

Jason snorted and shook his head. Tucker gave him a small smile before tapping the bottom of the pen against an already-written phrase.

_Thank you._

“Pfft,” Jason scoffed and tossed the pad onto the table. “It’s my pleasure to have you here--if only to know that you’re not there. But also because you laugh at my jokes.”

Tucker raised his eyebrows, making Jason huff jokingly.

“I’m funny, okay?”

Tucker pursed his lips and nodded mockingly.

“You can take your sarcasm and shove it up your--”

“Okay, so I unpacked Tucker’s things, but his phone will probably be cut off soon, so I’ll add him onto our plan.” Church announced as he swept into the room and plopped down onto the seat next to Tucker. He took a minute to assess Tucker--tear stains on his bruised cheeks, sleeves covering his arms damp, cut over his right eyebrow, but overall less tense than on the car ride there--before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. 

Tucker let out a soft, happy breath at the one-armed hug. He closed his eyes and melted against Church side--only for a moment, he told himself, only accepting the comfort for a moment. In a purely platonic way because shit between them was still kinda awkward.

“You up to eating? It smells like Wash is almost done with whatever he’s cooking.” Jason asked Tucker gently.

Tucker went to shake his head in a negative, fear seizing him at the thought of eating again after the way his father had--

Tucker blinked rapidly and tried to dispel the thought. He looked up at Church hesitantly, looking to see if it was okay. If he had permission to eat. He was hungry--he hadn’t eaten anything beyond two pieces of toast in two days--but whenever he had tried to…

"It's alright, man. You deserve some good food in your stomach, and Wash isn't a horrible cook." Church assured him, in an offhandedly tone to try and dispel the weight of the situation a little bit. Tucker nodded, and they headed into the living room just as Wash was setting out plates. He smiled at him, but the smile was horribly brittle. He was almost more tender than he had been on the car ride over. Jason clapped him on the shoulder, rubbing into it a little as if trying to get him to relax. Wash shrugged his hand off and grabbed the pot of pasta, and started to dish everyone up. Unsure what else to do, they all took their seats. Jason did his best to keep up a relaxed atmosphere with some story about a guy who came into work in his underwear. Wash laughed occasionally, but it was obviously forced, and Tucker averted his eyes every time he heard it. 

"I better be going home. Text me, alright, Tucker?" Church said, pulling in his jacket and heading out the door. Wash stood and started to clear the table, and Tucker stood to help.

"I can do it, you should get some sleep." Wash said quickly, reaching to take the plate out of Tucker's hand. Tucker blinked, a little surprised, and Wash continued to bustle around the table and into the kitchen. Tucker and Jason made eye contact.

"Just a tense day, son, no way around it." Jason shrugged. Tucker bit the inside of his cheek. Was Wash angry at him, for being so weak? He remembered how strong Wash had been, coming out and telling Tucker when Kaleb had hurt him. Remembered the way he stood in between Kaleb and Claire, like some immovable wall.

Tucker nodded tensely and avoided looking at Wash as he bustled into the kitchen. He winced every time he heard a cabinet door slam. After about five minutes of the hell, Jason seemed to take pity on him and lead him back into the living room, where they sat down on the couch.

Tucker leaned forward and grabbed the writing pad, hesitantly scribbling out a question.

_Is he angry at me?_

He gnawed on his lip and debated internally before weakly tugging on Jason’s t-shirt to direct his attention to the pad. He tapped the end of his pen against the paper and watched nervously as Jason read it. The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking up at Tucker again.

“It’s...complicated. But I don’t think...I don’t he’s angry at you.” Jason put his hand over Tucker’s shoulder and squeezed lightly, apologizing whenever he ended up squeezing a bruise. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Tucker shook his head. His opened his mouth before closing it and gesturing to the bruises on his face.

“You wanna go take care of those first?” Jason guessed, earning a small nod. “Do you want me to help?”

Tucker paused and pursed his lips before shaking his head a negative.

“You don’t want me to see?” Jason guessed, taking in the way Tucker looked down at his lap and nodded hesitantly. “That’s okay. You don’t have to let me see. I wouldn’t think any less of you either way, but it’s your choice.”

Tucker looked up sharply and blinked up at Jason before leaning closer and giving him a quick hug. He stood from the couch and looked around a bit before turning to Jason and trying to think of a way to show his question.

“First aid kit is in the kitchen. You take care of the blood stuff and I’ll get your bag with the sprays and shit.” Jason informed him as he stood as well. He wrapped an arm around Tucker’s shoulder and kissed the crown of his head. “Try to talk to him, Tuck-Tuck. Not _talk_ , but communicate. This is going to be tough on all of us.”

Tucker nodded and watched Jason head upstairs before quietly making his way into the kitchen. He watched Wash’s back as the blond scrubbed angrily at a stubborn stain on a dish and felt guilt curl up in his stomach like a viper. He rapped his knuckles against the counter twice to let Wash know that he was here and almost winced at the way Wash jumped at the sound.

“Oh, Tucker,” Wash pursed his lips and turned the water in the sink off. He put down the plate and the scrubber and turned around to look at Tucker as he dried off his hands. “Did you need something?”

Tucker shuffled hesitantly, half of him seriously considering just turning and running away. Away from Wash’s anger, away from Jason’s stupid, caring, fatherly face, away from how real it was becoming. But he stayed. He reminded himself that he couldn’t be weak anymore. He took a deep breath and pointed at the cut on his eyebrow that had been the result of his father’s fist before looking down at the floor.

It was stupid to be scared.

Even if Wash was angry at him--which he wasn’t even sure of--Wash wouldn’t hurt him.

Right?

“First aid kit?” Wash asked in a clipped tone. Tucker nodded. “Do you know where it is?” Tucker shook his head.

Wash sighed in annoyance--no, Tucker, that could’ve been exasperation or concern or--and crouched down to get the first aid kit from under the sink. Tucker held in the wince at the way he slammed the cabinet valiantly, but whenever Wash slammed the kit down on the counter, Tucker wasn’t expecting it. His fingers curled into fists and a whimper escaped his throat as he flinched back, screwing his eyes shut and preparing for the blow…

...that never came.

Tucker's whimper drew Wash's attention, and he stared at the the other boy in concern. He was stiff and he'd flinched back as if-

Wash's blood ran cold. He's been slamming things down, because he was so fucking angry and he had tried to keep it in. He hadn't thought about it, he hadn't been thinking at all.

"Oh, God...Tucker, I'm not going to hit you, I promise." He choked out, throat right and burning at the realization that Tucker has thought he would _ever_ hit him.

Even while Kaleb had been hurting him, even before he'd told Tucker, the reason Tucker hadn't noticed was because Wash had never once thought for a fuckin _second_ that Tucker would hurt him.

And now here they where, roles reversed, and Tucker was afraid of him. 

Tucker kept his eyes shut for a moment, shame keeping him frozen. Wash was so angry, angry at him for being so weak. Just like his father had been. He started to shake his head, knowing that no words would come. 

Wash swallowed thickly and kneeled down in front of Tucker, placing a hand over Tucker's clenched fist.

"Please look at me." He begged. Tucker peeled his eyes open and blinked down at Wash. He forced his hand to relax under Wash’s fingers. “Tucker, I would _never_ hurt you.”

Tucker nodded and looked around the kitchen uncomfortably before sinking down onto his knees to be at level with Wash. He opened his mouth to try and force words out, try to apologize for being so stupid and weak, but all that came out was a strangled croak. Wash sighed and rubbed his thumb over Tucker’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Wash breathed out and brought up his free hand to cradle the back of Tucker’s neck. He watched as Tucker tensed before melting into the touch. Part of Wash kicked himself once again for not seeing it before. “I’m sorry that I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry that this _happened_ to you, that I got so angry at myself that I forgot that you were--”

Tucker shook his head and leaned forward to cut Wash’s words off by kissing him. He wanted to forget everything. Forget how badly it hurt, how crappy he was feeling, how much he just wanted to disappear. He just wanted to forget about all of it and let himself fall into Wash. He wanted so desperately to pretend that it never happened and to just latch onto this.

But he kept his kiss light and gentle because he knew he shouldn’t.

Because he knew that Wash didn’t deserve to be saddled with him.

“You’re getting pretty good at this whole ‘silently telling you to shut up’ thing,” Wash breathed out whenever Tucker pulled away. “You don’t want me to apologize?”

Tucker shook his head in a negative.

“Then...what do I do, love? How can I help you?”

Tucker gnawed on his bottom lip before pulling his hand away from Wash’s. Tucker brought both hands up to grab fistfuls of Wash’s t-shirt and pulling Wash as close as possible while shoving his own face into the crook of Wash’s neck. Wash wrapped his arms around Tucker on instinct before realizing what this was.

This was Tucker telling Wash that he didn’t need apologies or anger or anything other than comfort.

Part of him felt like a dick for ever not knowing. After Kaleb, he could remember the way Tucker was around him. It was exactly what he had needed. A love touch or embrace or a smile. Protective and calm and sweet and only looking after Wash. Tucker may have been mad, but he hadn’t acted like it. Tucker had known what Wash needed without asking. He’d been...perfect.

And now, Wash needed a fucking map to figure out that Tucker was hurting.

Wash wrapped his arms around Tucker, heart aching. He wished he could have been a better boyfriend and done something sooner, but that was the past and this was now. Now he just had to be there for Tucker.

"I love you, so much. You're so strong, none of this was because of you, okay?" Wash whispered softly, sincerely. He felt the way Tucker trembled and shifted slightly at his words, and knew it would take a while for him to believe them. And that was okay.

After what seemed like forever, Wash was forced to pull back slightly. 

"As much as you know I love holding you, we did come in here for a reason. How about we finish up in here and then we can go lay down in my bed and cuddle for as long as you like, ok?" Wash offered. Tucker nodded silently. Always silently. 

\-------------

A scream woke Wash up suddenly, and he jerked up in bed, heart stopping in his chest. He whirled around, disorientated. Another cry rang out, echoing through their less than empty house, piercing his ears with a vengeance and grinding against his bones. He threw his legs over the bed and ran to the door in just his boxers. His mind instantly ran through the possibilities. It sounded too high pitched to be Jason, that meant it must be Tucker. Why would Tucker be screaming, was someone in the house? Was it Kaleb? No, Kaleb was in jail. Maybe he got out? Maybe it was Tucker’s parents, turning a 180 and going off the rails again?

Heart now beating far too fast, he ran down the hall and _oh god Tucker’s door was already open what if someone-_

It was just his father, already kneeling next to Tucker’s bed. No one else in the room. No enemies, no uncles or psycho druggie parents come to take revenge. His heart slowed slightly, the key word being slightly. Tucker was still whimpering and screaming, tossing in the bed. Jason seemed hesitant to try and shake him awake, hands waving about indecisively , face distressed. Wash clenched his jaw, he hadn’t heard Tucker’s voice in so long, and now all he got to hear was heart wrenching screaming that made him want to curl in on himself. But there wasn’t time for that. 

Wash strode forward and placed his hands on Tucker’s shoulders, gently but firmly shaking him. 

“Tucker? Tucker, wake up, you’re just dreaming, love.” He called, staring down at the other boy. 

“No!” Tucker screamed roughly as he sat up, awareness flooding in like he lived in New Orleans in 2005. He breathed heavily as the grip that the panic had on his throat eased away at the sight of Wash in front of him. He wrapped his arms around Wash without a second thought and buried his face into the crook of Wash’s neck.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. You’re safe, you’re here, you’re okay.” Wash whispered against Tucker’s hair as the boy’s body shook with sobs. Jason watched the two with a thoughtful face before stepping over to whisper into Wash’s ear.

“Why don’t you stay with him tonight?”

Wash nodded and slipped into Tucker’s bed, situating them both to lay down together. He watched his father leave the room and close the door quietly before pulling Tucker closer to his chest. He buried one hand into Tucker’s hair and held him until the sobs died down.

“Do you want me to stay?” Wash asked quietly, almost wincing whenever Tucker’s hold on him tightened and he nodded his head frantically. “I’ll stay, don’t worry. Do you...want to tell me what it was?”

Tucker hesitated.

“Do you know how?”

Tucker shook his head.

“But you want me to know?”

Tucker shrugged.

Wash nodded to himself and held Tucker a bit tighter. “Whatever it is, dove, I won’t think any less of you. I won’t run away from you or leave you and I _won’t ever_ hurt you. I know our relationship has been strained, but I won’t leave you. No matter what, I’m here for you. Okay?”

Tucker nodded after a beat and pulled away to kiss Wash, letting all of his fear and desperateness out for one kiss. He felt that...maybe if he could make Wash understand...the words wouldn’t seem so locked away.

It didn’t.


	24. speak now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this goes out to the one of u guys who keeps asking us to let the baes be happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I hear the preacher say, "Speak now or forever hold your peace."  
> There’s the silence, there’s my last chance.  
> I stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me.  
> Horrified looks from everyone in the room  
> But I’m only looking at you."  
> -"Speak Now" by Taylor Swift
> 
> (I'm a Swiftie, fight me.)

When they went on the town, Tucker usually distracted Wash from the sounds of cars and traffic by talking louder than usual. Now, however, Wash was the one rambling at a slightly higher volume to try and block out the noises, and make Tucker feel better. Tucker just seemed to be getting worse and worse, lately. Like he was fading. He wouldn't even look Wash in the eyes anymore, and he moved like he was on autopilot. 

Wash tried everything he could think of, but the past week had been...hell. Tucker couldn’t sleep alone without having _horrible_ nightmares, so they had gotten into the habit of sharing a bed which was great in the fact that it had helped both of them. But not great in the fact that waking up with morning wood to your boyfriend wriggling his ass against you was a whole different kind of torture considering that your boyfriend was _mute_ and _depressed_ and you were a terrible person for even thinking about… _that_.

Tucker seemed to be oblivious to that, but that only served to make Wash even more worried. The Tucker Wash knew--the Tucker that Wash had fallen in love with--wouldn’t miss a chance to tease Wash. During cuddle sessions, that Tucker would rub his ass against Wash’s lap just to _try_ for a response. He wouldn’t be perfectly still while awake and only twitch while asleep.

The silence was also grating. Wash tried not to let it get to him, but he fell in love with Tucker whenever he was so full of life. Always loud and happy and bouncing around like a goddamn bunny. Tucker was always talking or laughing or singing or humming or muttering. There was never a silent second. And now? Now he was silent and he looked like he was just…

Gone.

Jason had suggested a weekend in town to get some fresh air and watch a movie might help, but Tucker had just stared at his lap instead of watch the movie. And he'd insisted on paying, which left an uneasy feeling in Wash's stomach.

They stopped at an intersection, and Wash gestured to the coffee shop on the otherside. 

"Should we get coffee?" He asked, even though that meant crossing the busy street. If they stayed in this side of the street they could walk all the way home without ever having to cross. (Wash had memorized the routes that took the least amount of street crossing a long time ago.)

Tucker seemed to realize this, and gave Wash a look. 

"No, really, it's okay...it's just one street and it isn't that busy, and coffee is the reward!" Wash lied, stomach tying itself in knots as large and small cars flew by them. Tucker huffed and raised his eyebrows at Wash in concern.

Briefly, Wash noticed that this was the first emotion Wash had seen other than anger or sorrow in two weeks. Later, he’d let himself think about the irony of it being concern over Wash.

“Do you want some coffee?” Wash asked Tucker gently, wincing internally whenever Tucker’s face lost all expression and the boy shrugged. “Well, I do. Will you go get some with me?”

Tucker rolled his eyes a bit and reached out to run his fingers over Wash’s wrist. The touch was barely there, but it was the first touch that Tucker had initiated in days.

“I’ll be fine, dove, I promise. But thank you,” Wash stepped forward and brushed a kiss against Tucker’s forehead--the way he knew made Tucker feel loved. “It means a lot that you still try to look out for me.”

Moments like this, though, had made this week bearable. The moments whenever Tucker would kiss him back like he was a dying man, whenever Tucker would squeeze his hand every time Wash tried to let go, whenever Tucker wake Wash up by tracing imaginary shapes into Wash’s skin, whenever Tucker proved that the man that Wash had fallen in love with was still there.

These were the moments that Wash would live for in this last week. Even while he knew Tucker was spiralling, Tucker had held onto him. And he didn’t know if he was super fucked up or if it was some weird alpha male pride, but it made him happy. It made him feel special to know that no matter what, Tucker still loved him.

~~He tended to ignore the fact that this meant that even their love couldn’t save Tucker.~~

Tucker gestured to Wash, then pointed down towards the ground. Then he pointed at himself, and pointed across the street. Wash pursed his lips.

"I stay here, and you go get them?" Wash guessed, having grown used to their permanent game of charades.

Tucker nodded. Wash hesitated, glancing at the busy street. Then again, people crossed streets all the time. And shouldn’t he let Tucker do what he wanted, instead of making a big deal out of it?

“Okay, just be careful. Caramel macchiato, here.” Wash pulled out his wallet and handed Tucker a ten, hoping he wouldn’t pay for his own coffee. From the expression Tucker had when he took the money, Wash knew his hopes were in vain. One problem at a time, he supposed. 

Tucker nodded, and turned around, head bowed and hands in his pockets as he stepped off the curb. Wash watch him walk, mulling over the other’s boy’s silence, when something caught the corner of his eye. A huge tow truck was passing in the same direction as Tucker, and the light was turning yellow. It would be green by the time the truck was almost crossed, and Tucker wasn’t even in the middle of the street yet. He was walking too slow and he wasn’t even bothering to look. It seemed like a dozen cars were heading down the street on a collision course for Tucker, the frontmost of which was a woman in a red SUV, who was applying lipstick in the mirror. Wash’s heart started to pound, and it seemed like his brain was turning too slowly as he watched everything happen. If Tucker didn’t walk faster, if he wasn’t across before the tow truck was, that bitch was gonna whiz right through the intersection and-

“Tucker! Go faster!” Wash called out. Tucker paused and started to turn back towards him- _no no no no now he wasn’t even walking at all-_ The light was green and the tow truck was pulling ahead, and the woman still didn’t see Tucker just _standing_ there. He felt like everything was in slow motion, and then suddenly snapped into hyperdrive, and he was rushing forward and shoving Tucker forward, forward, _get out of the way, goddamnit!_

He heard a horn honk and literally felt the woman in the car swerve around him, the air stirring his hair as she rocketed by. If she hadn’t seen him, he’d probably be on the ground, broken and internally bleeding, or dead. But he didn’t even bother to look, all he could see was Tucker, staring up at him in shock. He rushed forward again and helped a dazed Tucker up, dragging him to the complete safety of the sidewalk. He sat Tucker down on the curb because it didn’t seem like the other boy could stand, he was just staring ahead, pale. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Wash exclaimed, heart still going a mile a minute and body shaking. “WHY WEREN'T YOU _LOOKING?_ ”

Tucker just stared up at him, blinking slowly, fuckin _silent_. God, he hated silence. Wash kneeled down next to him, desperately looking all over him for any injuries, and Tucker didn’t even react. Wash grabbed his shoulders and shook them, tears welling up in his wild eyes.

“Why where you walking so slow, I told you to be careful, you weren’t even looking! Don’t you ever fucking do that again, never again! I swear to god, if I lose you over something so fucking stupid I’ll- I’ll- I’ll-” Wash couldn’t seem to catch his breath. In the back of his mind he knew he was hyperventilating, but he could hardly be bothered to give a fuck. 

“I can’t lose you ! I can’t! I won’t! Please, _God_ , don’t make me fucking lose you! Why weren’t you fucking looking? Do you have a fucking death wish? Because if you do I swear to god I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you, I don’t fucking care if you _hate_ me for it, _I can’t lose you!_ ” He didn’t know if he was screaming or sobbing, and his hands fell away from Tucker’s shoulders to flutter over him like birds that didn’t know where to land, and he still couldn’t breathe, and he was starting to feel lightheaded. He swallowed thickly, once, twice.

“You could have _died!_ ,” He whispered, breath not even bothering to come into his lungs anymore, blood draining from his face and his appendages. 

“Who cares?” Tucker croaked, his voice scratchy from disuse and emotions as he stared up at Wash. He watched Wash face morph from panic and concern to cold, dark horror.

"I care! Tucker, I don’t know what you’ve been _telling_ yourself but I _care_!” Wash yelled as he grabbed Tucker’s hands and stared him straight in the eyes. “I _love_ you! I wasn’t fucking lying whenever I told you that! I love every part of you. I love your laughter and your smiles and your dreads and I love the way you interrupt me or get lost in science and I love how you inspire the people around you and I love you so much, Tucker, I’ve always loved you and I can’t- I can’t lose you, okay!?

“I know that you feel shitty right now, _believe me, I know_ , but don’t you dare for one fucking millisecond think that I don’t care about you. I love you, you piece of shit! I will never stop loving you! Church, my dad, Carolina, Grif, Simmons, fucking _Caboose_ \--we _all_ care about you! Who cares? _Who the fuck cares!?_ We _all_ fucking care! If you fucking- I’m gonna kick your ass if you ever say something like that again because you’re _surrounded_ by people who love and respect and cherish you and they do not deserve to be diminished like this!”

Tucker blinked up at Wash owlishly as he watched his boyfriend yell at him.

“ _And another thing_ stop fucking insisting on paying for shit!” Wash stood and threw his hands into the air as he began to pace back and forth, the panic and anger and hope and--all of it was leaving him restless and frustrating. “If I fucking offer to pay, that means that I _want_ to pay! I want to treat you and take care of you but you’re too goddamn stubborn to fucking see that! Or maybe you do, but you- you have too much pride of whatever! I _like_ taking care of you, okay? I _like_ knowing that you might not need me, but you’ll still _let_ me do shit for you! Am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling which isn’t fair at all because this is what _you’re_ supposed to do! You’re supposed to ramble and tell me that you love me and look after me, too! And that isn’t fair to say, but I’m tired and you just almost died and--”

“I love you,” Tucker cut him off in a small voice.

“Fuck, Tucker,” Wash turned back to his boyfriend and collapsed onto his knees in front of him. “ _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Tucker nodded his understanding and moved forward to wrap his arms around Wash’s neck. “I know.”

“I missed hearing that,” Wash confessed as he melted into Tucker’s arms. “I really missed hearing your voice. And don’t you think for a minute that you’re off the fucking hook, but, _fuck_ , Tucker!”

Tucker huffed out a broken laugh and they held each other on the sidewalk, both politely ignoring the other’s tears.

“I care about you,” Wash promised Tucker again, nuzzling his nose into Tucker’s neck.

“I love you,” Tucker promised back, brushing his nose against Wash’s hair.

\------------

“I think my dad’s gonna break his ankles from skipping around the house so much.” Wash announced as he sat down on Tucker’s bed next to him, smiling. It was as if Tucker’s voice alone had filled the house with warmth and light again. Jason had almost cried when Tucker had spoken to him again, and two days later he was still smiling like an idiot. Wash couldn’t blame him, he felt the same. 

Tucker curled into his side, smiling softly. “I’m sure his ankles are strong enough to withstand his joy.” 

 

Wash turned, and wrapped his arms around Tucker, pressing a kiss to Tucker’s lips before pulling back slightly. 

“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Wash asked, still barely able to believe things seemed to be going alright again. They were better, at least. And that was enough to make Wash feel like happiness was burning under his skin.

“I’m good. More than good.” Tucker replied, and leaned to kiss Wash again, desperately, just like he used to. Wash melted into it, tilting his head and bringing up a hand to cup Tucker’s jaw. 

Tucker moved into the kiss, moving his legs apart to pull Wash closer to his body, running his hands down Wash's chest. They kissed slowly, and deeply. The rest of the world just wasn't a thing when Wash was this close to Tucker, moving against him and breathing in the way he smelled. Warmth radiating from their skin, like stars about to die.

Tucker made a moaning sound from deep in his throat and pressed himself closer to Wash, as if he couldn't get close enough. The closeness, the heat and the friction all went straight to Wash's lower half, and he suddenly felt afraid. He didn't want to get a boner, he didn't want to freak Tucker out, everything was just getting _less_ tense.

Before he could think of a remedy for the situation, a shift of his leg told him that Tucker himself was already hard. Oh. This just got doubly awkward.

Tucker broke the kiss, flushing red and pulling back a little.

"Sorry, uh-" He stammered, as if ashamed. Which made sense, Wash was the one who's been sexually...assaulted. Yeah. That was the word. 

"Don't worry, you're not alone." He said quickly, cheeks flushing. He didn't want Tucker to feel bad. If he wanted he could try and pretend, for a moment, they were just like any other awkward teenage couple.

Tucker ducked his head a little and blushed even harder. “Well...this is...wonderfully awkward.”

Wash huffed out a laugh and sat up, scooting to the other side of the bed and watching half in amusement as Tucker groaned and fell back more into the pillows.

“I don’t think that we should…” Wash started, gesturing vaguely in between them. Relief flooded through his body whenever he saw Tucker nod and throw one hand up into the air as a thumbs up.

“It’s too soon, I agree.” Tucker muttered. “Just my luck to get a hot boyfriend and then get damaged before I can ever enjoy the _perks_ of a hot boyfriend.”

Wash flushed but frowned at Tucker. “You’re not damaged.”

“Broken, then.”

“Bent,” Wash argued, moving forward to kiss Tucker on the lips lightly, pulling away whenever Tucker let out a conflicted whimper.

“You keep your stupid lips to yourself.” Tucker ordered, making Wash laugh once more.

“Go take care of _that_ and I won’t have to.” Wash teased, running one hand over Tucker’s outer thigh and letting the resulting twitch and startled moan fuel his male pride.

“You are a goddamn menace and I hate you,” Tucker accuse as he scrambled to get off of the bed and far away from Wash, who was laughing up a fucking storm.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take a look at your lap and decide that you don’t hate me.” Wash laughed even harder whenever Tucker grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Go take care of that!”

“Stop being an ass!” Tucker shot back before disappearing into the bathroom and yelling through the walls. “And leave the room because I don’t want you to hear me!”

“Seriously? Come on, Tucker, your bed is comfy!” Wash whined.

“Leave!” Tucker demanded in his squeaky, exasperated voice. Wash huffed out another laugh but complied.

As he closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they’d get ‘alright’ again despite everything.


	25. reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so, I was supposed to post this chapter yesterday
> 
> but I forgot
> 
> I'm laughing my ass off about my song choice, sorrynotsorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Look at me  
> I will never pass for a perfect bride  
> Or a perfect daughter  
> Can it be  
> I'm not meant to play this part?  
> Now I see  
> That if I were truly to be myself  
> I would break my fam'ly's heart
> 
> Who is that girl I see  
> Staring straight  
> Back at me?  
> Why is my reflection someone  
> I don't know?  
> Somehow I cannot hide  
> Who I am  
> Though I've tried"  
> -"Reflection" by Mulan

Wash hummed along to his iPod as he sorted the contents of the boxes in front of him into two piles- keep and trash. His dad was out on a business trip and Tucker was still asleep, so he figured he might as well get some stuff that needed to be done done. He didn't mind tedious work like this. Besides, it was fun to go through his parents junk. Sometimes he came across stuff that belonged to his mom, and I put it in a special pile behind him. 

"A talking bass? Seriously, dad?" He muttered, pulling the tacky decoration out of a box labeled 'J-Dawg's Office.' It was written in sharpie, in his mother's handwriting. He pulled out a PIXAR lamp replica and a name plate that said ‘fucker in charge of you fucking fucks’, and put them both in the keep pile. Underneath these were a bunch of file holders full of paper, so he put them in the keep pile so his dad could just look through them himself when he got back. As he reached to pull the last two file holders out, something fell out from in between them and back into the box with a clang. He set the file holders aside and reached to pick it up. it was a small thick photo frame. Luckily, the glass wasn’t broken. He wiped the dust off the glass and inspected the picture- and his heart skipped a beat. He ripped his earbuds out so he could pay full attention to the photograph, which was of two smiling teenage boys by the ocean.

One was his father, the same sparkling eyes and crooked smile, but with a smaller frame and a lot more hair. The other boy was smiling too, and had his arm wrapped around Jason. Wash stared down at him, and it was like staring in a mirror. Same face, same body, same height, same hair. The only differences were that the boy’s eyes were hazel, and Wash’s were far bluer, and the boy’s skin was clear where Wash had a million freckles.

_Kaleb._

People had always commented on the similarity, far off cousins at family gatherings and such. Kaleb would laugh and claim he’d cloned Wash to save money, but Wash had always taken it as a joke. He hadn’t known that they were almost exact replicas of each other. His fingers gripped the photo frame tightly, and all he could do was stare down at the teenage version of the man who had hurt him so badly. 

_"Kaleb, please, please don't do this. Don't become your father! Please!"_

_"We understand how you're feeling, but we do not condone any of your actions. You've hurt us, hurt yourself, broken the law and terrified everyone one too many times, young man…”_

_"What the fuck is wrong with you?"_   
_"You are." Kaleb responded in a growl._

_I know! I'm not mad at you you I’m mad at me you, isn't that the point of this exercise? I'm angry. All the time. I'm not angry at that drunk driver, I'm not angry at Kaleb, I'm not angry at my aunts and I'm not angry with Tucker and I'm not angry with you. I never was. Ever. I'm still not angry with Kaleb no matter how hard I try I'm just angry at me."_

_“Kaleb and I...our dad wasn’t the best guy.”_

_“I didn’t handle it very well.”_

_You were in pain and grieving._   
_Just like Kaleb was, when he hurt you._

Wash put a hand over his mouth, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the picture anymore. After a few moments he collected himself, and he took apart the photo frame. He folded it up and shoved it in his back pocket, setting the frame in the keep pile and doing his best to carry on with his work.

\---------

Tucker sighed to himself as he watched Wash bustle around the room like he can’t bring himself to stop. Wash had been like this for a couple of days, ever since he had come back from helping clear out some of his parents’ old stuff. Tucker had figured that it had something to do with seeing the memories of Thena, but the way Wash wasn’t stopping it was more like…

Like if he stopped he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to start again.

Tucker sighed and moved to take a seat on Wash’s bed, planning on having a talk with his boyfriend. He picked up Wash’s journal absentmindedly, “Mind if I move this to sit?”

“Yeah,” Wash shrugged Tucker off, but tensed whenever a small piece of paper slid from his journal to the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Tucker told in in a quelling tone as he crouched down and retrieved the picture--

“No!” Wash called out, almost desperately, whenever Tucker turned the paper over to look at the photograph.

“What- I thought that you said you’ve never been to the beach?” Tucker asked Wash confused before looking back at the picture. “Wait, no, this guy doesn’t have freckles. Wow, uh...who is this? Your dad?”

Wash gripped the wood of his desk behind him and bit down on his bottom lip. The fact that even _Tucker_ thought they were the same was…

It felt like someone had just punched him in the goddamn gut.

“No,” Wash choked out as he stared resolutely at the ground. He could hear the turning of the paper as Tucker checked the back for an explanation.

“Holy shit,” Tucker breathed out as he took in the name written in dark ink. “Is this why...why you’ve been acting so weird?”

“I haven’t been acting weird!” Wash protested weakly.

“Yes, you have, babe, I just figured it was from...being around your mom’s stuff,” Tucker watched Wash carefully. “But it was because of this, wasn’t it?”

Wash shook his head and grabbed the photograph from Tucker, _almost_ feeling bad whenever he saw Tucker flinch away from his sudden movement. 

_Good for him to learn now_ , a viscous part of his brain dug a talon into his emotions.

“People always said that we looked alike, but…” Wash pursed his lips together and slammed the picture onto the table. He resolutely ignored the way Tucker’s jumped at the noise. “He would _joke_ around that I was his clone, but I don’t think anyone ever meant to it to be so fucking literal.”

“Wash, what are you--”

“We’re the same, Tucker,” Wash shook his head and looked out his window. “I’m just like him.”

“No,” Tucker started, but Wash cut him off.

“You were afraid of me, Tucker.”

“I was afraid of everyone--”

“You flinched away from me a single minute ago!”

“Because I wasn’t--”

“Because you know better!” Wash scraped his hand over his face and looked down at the ground. “You know better. You know that whenever I’m hurting...I’m Kaleb Jr.”

Tucker felt his heart twist in his chest, and felt horrible for being so _weak_ that he'd added to Wash's problems, too.

"You aren't Kaleb, dove. You've done nothing but try to protect me." Tucker protested. 

Wash kept looking at the ground.

"My dad told me that Kaleb used to protect him from their abusive asshole father. He used to volunteer at animal shelters, Tucker! He helped teach Sunday school to deaf kids! He used to be this amazing guy who everyone loved, but the minute things go south-" Wash rolled his neck, and his shoulders sagged.

"I'm sorry, I know it's stupid, I know I'm being irrational. I'm working on it, alright?" Wash said, forcing a smile at his boyfriend. Tucker was just getting better, and Wash had to go find another way to be an angsty fucked up asshole. Would the cycle never end?

Maybe if he just kept it to himself, things would keep being alright.

Tucker was still staring at him with concern, but he nodded, stepping forward to rest his arms on Wash's shoulder and kiss him softly. 

"I love you, and you've never done anything but be _good_ , okay?" Tucker murmured. God, Wash had missed that voice. He nodded despite himself, begging his heart to believe Tucker's words. 

\----------

“Hey, Jason? Can we talk?” Tucker asked hesitantly after he knocked lightly on the open door frame to Jason’s office. Jason sat at the desk, his head turned down to stare seriously at the subject of his focus, reading glasses perched on his nose, thumbs twitching as he tried to figure out this new Flow level.

He looked up at Tucker and gave the kid a goofy smile. “Always. What’s on your mind, Tuck-Tuck?” 

Tucker rolled his eyes and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He walked into the office and sat down on the workbench next to Jason’s desk. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“My bad, Vern.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

“Are you coming out as Catholic to me? Because you know how I feel about religion. I had such high hopes. Indoctrinated you into science so early. It’s always the ones you least suspect,” Jason wiped away a fake tear before his face morphed into his concerned dad expression. “Is it about your parents?”

“Nah, I’m still in deep, deep denial that that ever happened,” Tucker shrugged and held out the picture to Jason. “Wash found this whenever he was going through your things from the old house. He’s...freaking out, you know? He thinks...he thinks that this means that he and Kaleb are somehow the same or some shit. And with the trial coming up--”

“We should look after him, yes,” Jason brushed his thumb over his upper lip--a habit that he had developed whenever he was a teenager. “How is he?”

“It’s hard to get a read on him,” Tucker shrugged as a shadow fell over his face. “I think...he’s trying to pretend that he’s okay.”

Jason nodded and let himself take in Tucker. “And how are you?”

Tucker shrugged. "I guess I'm in the same boat, sort of. But I- I'm moving forward, albeit slowly. Wash...I'm afraid that he's moving in the wrong direction." 

Jason nodded thoughtfully, expression dark and distant. He ran his finger along the edge of his desk, and gestured to the chair on the other side.

"You can sit if you want." He said. Tucker hesitated, before taking the seat. Jason set the picture down the desk. 

"I wish I could have stopped all this from happening. Neither of you deserved to be hurt. You deserve to loved, and safe and supported. But I'm here now, okay? I'll always be here, now. I don't think Wash quite gets that. He used to be so open with me. He used to be a large print book, you could read him in a second. Now he's closed off, curled in on himself like a turtle retreats into its shell. Have you...I'm guessing you've seen the scars." Jason asked.

"Which ones?" Tucker asked in return.

"All of them. The whip scars, the- the _burn_ scars. I saw them for the first time when he was waking you up from your nightmares, remember? He told me that he'd hurt himself but I assumed..." Jason's voice trailed off.

"You assumed he meant cutting, didn't you? Trust me, the burning was a surprise to me too. And not a good one. A horrible, horrible one. But he's doing so much better with that, don't worry. He doesn't even tic for it as often anymore." Tucker assured Jason, wanting to make the man feel better. Jason tilted his head.

"Tic?" He asked. Tucker blinked.

"Uh, yeah. He has a tell, we found out. Mostly Angela figured it out. Whenever he's freaking out on the inside and he's fighting the urge to burn himself, he starts rubbing his thumb and index finger together, like this." Tucker lifted his hand and demonstrated. Jason stared, as if trying to memorize the information instantly.

"And when it's really bad, he starts digging his thumbnail into the side of his finger. That usually means approach with extreme caution. He hadn't done that in a long time, though, since before you woke up." Tucker explained, letting his hand drop. Jason nodded.

"Thank you, you have no idea how much that information means to me. I think if we do our best to convince Wash he'll never be like Kaleb, he might start believing us, and then we'll all be on the same boat heading towards The Empire Of Healing. And that applies to you, too. You are my son, I don't care what anyone thinks or says, I love you more than you'll ever know. If you need me, I'll be there just as quick as if it was Wash." 

Tucker stared up at Jason with tears in his eyes and nodded. He looked down at his arm and remembered his own father’s way of dealing with him. Remembered the way he was thrown into a wall the day Wash and Church had--for want of a better word--rescued him. Remembered the bruises that had been just as prominent on his skin as Wash’s freckles.

Remembered the way Jason had calmly and carefully and _oh so fucking gently_ rubbed the salve into them. Remembered the way Jason hadn’t pressured him to take off his shirt to reveal the rest of the bruises. Remembered the way Jason had held him and let him fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” Tucker muttered as he stared down at his hands in his lap. “You deserve to know what happened, but I can’t…I can’t talk about it.”

“Don’t do that, Tucker.” Jason gently instructed Tucker. “Don’t feel like you owe me anything. You may not be made up of fifty percent of my DNA, but you’re my son in every way that counts. You’ve been with us on car trips and you’ve cried on my shoulder and you can to me for advice on boys and we studied for your tests together and I taught you how to build an engine. I showed you the Star Wars movies and Thena taught you how to long divide and how to ride a skateboard. You visited me at the hospital and you mourned Thena and you protected my son and you are a part of this family. And in this family--no matter how it _ended up_ \--we don’t apologize for shit that ain’t our fault.”

Tucker huffed out a laugh but nodded. “You’re right. And I will...tell you. Whenever I can.”

“If or when you can or want to, I will listen.” Jason leaned forward and kissed Tucker’s forehead before pulling away and pushing his phone into Tucker’s face. “Now tell me how to do this level before I throw my phone in a fit of rage that will make the Hulk look like a toddler throwing a fit.”


	26. This happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witty sadistic words
> 
> This is all shameless fluffy smut, fight me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hips don't lie

Tucker bit down on the tip of his thumb. He was sitting on the couch in Angela and Melinda’s living room, hunched over his own legs, one elbow perched on his knee to feed his nervous habit while his other arm wrapped around his own torso and pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. Beside him, Claire was sitting stock straight and perfectly still--minus her leg, which couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

And behind the couch, Wash was pacing back and forth.

It was the final day of Kaleb’s trial. It was the day that Wash and Claire had been called to testify, and it was the day of that the final verdict will be read.

The three men in the Washington household had risen early and were ready by eight a.m., an hour before they had agreed to meet Claire and the others at the courthouse. The hour seemed to pass at a snail’s pace, but soon the trial was off.

Wash and Claire had sat outside of the courtroom until they were individually called to testify, and after Wash was finished with his testimony, Tucker had followed him out and wordlessly went with Claire and him to her car. Wordlessly because, while words couldn’t help, Wash would still get anxious whenever Tucker was silent. So, to distract Wash from the car ride, Tucker had hummed softly in his ear.

Whenever they got to the house about two hours ago, Claire had taken up her post on the couch and hadn’t moved since. Wash had started cleaning the kitchen until Tucker put a movie on in the living room and banished him so that Tucker could make them a meal. 

The lasagna was sitting on the stove, untouched.

Tucker had come back into the room to find the TV on, Wash pacing, and Claire staring off into space.

He couldn’t help them, so he had joined them. He sat next to Claire and he refused to let his mind drift to any dark corners.

That is, until Jason, Angela, and Melinda came bursting into the room with varying degrees of feral/sadistic smiles on their faces. There was a moment of pure tension before Melinda announced the good news.

Guilty on all counts.

Two sentences of forty years to life.

In the midst of the triumph, Tucker almost missed the way Wash didn’t seem relieved. The way Wash was still wound up tighter than an eight day clock. The way Wash had excused himself to his old room. They way Wash seemed muted.

 _Almost_.

Jason told him that it was just an after effect of the trial, that Wash would be fine.

Days later, Wash was still muted, withdrawn, hesitant. Scared, almost. Wash would barely touch him, and whenever he did, his hands would flutter around Tucker’s body so lightly--like he couldn’t decide where to put them, but at the same time, didn’t think that they should go anywhere.

Tucker figured that this was what it feel like to have your heart broken a little at a time, but tried to ignore it. Jason said that Wash would be fine, so Wash would be fine. He wondered if this was how Wash felt when he’d been mute, when he’d been pulling away.

Why were they always doing this? Up and down, back and forth, pulling away and pushing away and never meeting in the middle for long. Something had to break the cycle, something had to break. 

Tucker poked his head into Wash's room, where he was reading a book on the bed. 

"Can we cuddle, babe? Or are you too engrossed in your book?" Tucker asked. Maybe some tough loving would warm Wash up.

Wash looked up at him, and hesitantly nodded, setting the book aside. Tucker entered the room and closed the door behind him before crawling into the bed and curling into Wash's side.

"How are you, love?" He asked. Wash forced a smile at him, and Tucker could fucking tell it was fake. 

"I'm great, you?"

Tucker frowned, and pulled away to sit up. 

"Kinda worried, considering my boyfriend keeps lying to me about how he is," Tucker finally said, unable to take it anymore. 

Wash bristled, shoulders going stiff. "Are you still going on about that? I told you, I'm over that stuff with the picture, I don't even have it anymore!" 

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Yeah, cause I stole it off your desk!"

Wash huffed. "You _stole_ -"

Tucker dug his fingers into the sheets. "Don't try and change the subject!"

Wash threw his hands up. "Don't steal my stuff!"

Tucker sagged, staring at Wash is desperation. "Love, _please_." 

Wash turned his head away. Then he got up altogether and stood, turning his back on Tucker. Okay, that stung. 

“Wash, all I’m trying to do is figure out what’s going on with you,” Tucker stood and stepped in front of Wash, reaching out to rest his hand against Wash’s upper arm, only to have it shrugged off.

“You wanna know what’s ‘going on’ with me, Tucker? _Fine_! Everytime I look in the mirror, I see the face of the man who fucked me up so bad I almost committed suicide. I almost lost _everything_ \--I almost lost _you_ \--and it was because of him! He turned me into him and I know that I shouldn’t feel this way, but how can I not? I know now! I know and it’s killing me to try and pretend that everything is fine. It kills me to pretend like I still trust myself to touch you!” 

Tucker clenched his jaw and brought his hand up to wrap it firmly around Wash’s bicep.

“I trust you to touch me.” Tucker told Wash seriously. “You’re one of the only people that I do.”

Wash shook his head, but Tucker didn’t give time to speak. He ghosted his hand down Wash’s arm and guided Wash’s hand to lay flat over Tucker’s clothed chest. “I love it whenever you touch me. You make me feel safe and happy and...like I’m worth all of the shit that I’ve cause you. You can take this hand and touch me anywhere and I would love it.”

“Tucker--”

“I trust you more than anyone else on this planet, Wash. Don’t tell me that that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does, but it doesn’t change that I’m genetically wired to be _him_! I’ve _already_ hurt you!”

Tucker let out a huff of breath and shook his head. He had half of an idea, but no clue about how it would work.

Still, desperate times…

 

~~And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that a couple of more...mature dreams did start out a bit like this.~~

Tucker looked Wash in the eyes before leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to his lips. He pulled away and schooled his face to keep away any anxiety or anticipation. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Wash breathed out, confusion radiating from him.

“Your shirt, take it off,” Tucker took a small step back so that Wash’s hand fell away from his chest. “I know that you don’t trust yourself, so...trust me, okay? Just let me do this. For you.”

Wash sighed but complied, pulling off his shirt to reveal a slightly toned chest, a lot of scars, and freckles as innumerable as the stars. _Christ, Tucker, keep it together. You’ve seen him shirtless before._

_Not whenever you were about to do what you’re about to do._

_Point. Oggle away_

Tucker looked up from Wash’s chest whenever the blond cleared his throat pointedly. Tucker stepped forward again so that every time he would inhale too deeply, his chest would brush against Wash’s.

“Do you trust me?” Tucker whispered, as if talking too loudly would pop the little bubble that they had around them. He watched him fascination as Wash’s adam’s apple bobbed downward.

“Yes, Tucker, what--” Wash started once more before he was cut off by Tucker’s fingers trailing down his chest in a feather light dance. His muscles jumped and tightened whenever Tucker’s hands settled on the skin just underneath the hem of Wash’s jeans.

Tension and anticipation seemed to charge the air of the room as Wash searched Tucker’s face for any hint as to what this plan of his was. Tucker leaned up, going onto his toes and putting more weight behind his hands on Wash’s lower stomach.

“Put your hands in my hair,” Tucker instructed, his breath puffing out over Wash’s sensitive neck. Wash complied, his fingers burying themselves in Tucker’s dreads before he could contemplate the order. “Good. Now, I just need you to trust me.”

“What are you--” Wash started before the words got caught in his throat. He watched, mesmerized, as Tucker sunk down to his knees, his face now on the same level as--

_Oh fuck._

“Tucker, don’t...don’t do this--”

“If you don’t want this,” Tucker’s hands pushed down at Wash’s jeans and slid to the side to hold Wash’s hips as Tucker nuzzled his nose against the trail of hair underneath Wash’s belly button. “I’ll stop. If you think that this is too fast, I’ll stop. But if you’re stopping because you think that I don’t want this or that you need to protect me from you, I won’t. I’m ready for this.”

“Fuck, Tucker,” Wash breathed out, rolling his head back as he began to let go and ignore that voice in his head that sounded like Kaleb. But first, he had to clarify, “I just...I want you to be happy.”

Tucker unbuttoned Wash’s jeans and tugged the zipper down with his teeth before tentatively pressing his tongue against the base of Wash’s cock through his boxers. Wash hissed in a breath and tightened his fingers in Tucker’s hair before looking down to find his boyfriend’s smug face grinning up at him.

“Nothing would make me happier right now than if you would let me suck your dick,” Tucker told Wash honestly, making the blond groan. Wash himself didn’t know if it was anticipation or exasperation, but it made Tucker’s smile grow.

Tucker shoved Wash’s jeans and boxers down to his ankles before hesitantly taking Wash’s half hard length in his hand. Wash’s hands in his hair tugged as Tucker’s tongue darted out to press against the slit.

“You know, I always thought that whenever we got this far, you’d be far more unraveled by now,” Tucker told Wash in a casual tone as he licked his cock from base to tip.

“Fuck!” Wash gasped and screwed his eyes shut. “Well, dove, I think you’ve already got me halfway there.”

“Well, someone knows how to compliment a guy,” Tucker teased before taking Wash’s head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

Wash let his head fall back, trembling slightly. This was happening. He'd fantasized and dreamt about this for so long.

"Oh my god, I-" His breath hitched and he groaned.

Tucker bobbed his head down to take as much of Wash into his mouth as he could, pulling off whenever the head bumped against the back of his throat. He mouthed at the base while bringing one hand from Wash’s hip to play with his balls.

Wash groaned, digging his fingers into his hands and tensing his muscles. He'd jacked off before, but this was way different. Part of his brain whispered that this wasn’t real, that Tucker was just desperate to make him feel better, that he didn’t really want it.

But Tucker said he did want it with such conviction- should he trust the person he loved most or the voice in his head, the same voice in his head that told him he deserved pain, that told him to burn himself? How was he supposed to accept love and pleasure after everything he’d done?

 

Tucker pulled away from Wash and frowned up at him, a wave of insecurity knocking him back whenever he saw Wash’s face so conflicted. He forced a small smile and leaned his head down just enough so that he wouldn’t feel the pressure of Wash’s hands. “You know, I’m gonna try really hard not to take it personally that you’re somewhere else in your mind.”

"I'm sorry, I just- are you sure, you don't have to-" He stammered out, still reeling from the shock of pleasure and worry. Then he winced- if Tucker was upset he wasn't into it then he was obviously into it and he was being stupid and probably making Tucker think he didn't want it when he did and-

He was making this a lot more complicated than it really was, wasn't he? 

“Wash,” Tucker let out a sigh and leaned forward to lean his forehead against Wash’s flat belly--which, yeah, not fair. “Don’t _think_ just answer, do you want this?”

"Yes." He said almost instantly, voice near desperate. He shoved the worry and self hatred and embarrassment away, and he tries to do what he always should have done- trust the people he loved. 

“Good, because I want to give this to you.” Tucker muttered against Wash’s skin, kissing his belly lightly before bring his hand up from Wash’s balls to lightly stroke him. “I want to make you feel good. I want to be here for you. Eventually, I want to make love to you, but Wash, you _have_ to trust me.”

"I do. I do." Wash breathed, watching Tucker with awe and some other emotions he didn't understand. 

Tucker smiled softly up at Wash and kept the eye contact as he lowered his mouth over the head of his dick again, sucking lightly to drag the insides of his cheeks over the sensitive skin.

"Oh, christ," Wash moaned, finally letting the tension leave his body. He almost closed his eyes, but he forced them to stay open so he could stare at Tucker's head between his legs. 

Tucker bobbed his head down as far as he could and hummed, using his hand to stroke what his mouth couldn’t reach.

Wash made some weird incoherent noise, and bit his lip. It felt so good, had Tucker really never done this? Then again, Tucker always was good at putting theories into practice. 

Pleasure trembled along his nerves, making his toes curl. 

_Keep it together, Washington, this is what you've been dreaming about._

Tucker took a deep breath through his nose and took in more of Wash until his tip was against the back of Tucker’s throat. He whimpered a little bit whenever he couldn’t breathe and backed up until just the tip was in his mouth. He pressed his tongue against Wash’s slit before taking his mouth off entirely to catch his breath.

He rested his forehead against Wash’s stomach again, but kept his pace with his hand. _Note to self, do not try to deep throat whenever you have no previous practice._

Wash almost pulled away in concern, but was too afraid to move. He reached to run his hand gently over Tucker's dreads, trying to keep his breathing even despite the heat coiling in his gut.

"Y-you don't need to impress me, love, your existence impresses me already. Fuck, this is so good, just you touching me, I-" He cut himself off with a groan at a particular spark of pleasure. 

“I guess I’m just excited, Wash,” Tucker spoke in an apologetic tone, pressing a loving kiss to Wash’s stomach. “I’m not trying to impress you. I just _want_ to do everything with you.”

He twisted wrist and pressed his thumb into Wash’s slit before moving his head down to mouth at Wash’s balls. “I want to make you feel good.”

Wash's body twitched and he tried to hold in a moan, since he had no idea when his dad was getting home. 

"You're d-doing a fantastic job, babe, holy _fuck_ , I'm gonna- it won't take much longer."

Tucker licked up Wash’s shaft and took his head in his mouth. He sucked and bobbed his head down and back up to drag his cheeks over Wash’s skin. He looked up at Wash to make eye contact and dropped his hand from Wash’s hip to unbutton his own pants. He stroked himself lightly and let his eyes flutter shut as he let out a low moan.

Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Holy shit. The hands and mouth on him had already pulled him towards the edge, but the sight of Tucker touching himself pushed him straight over the edge. He cried out as his orgasm hit him, more powerful than any one he'd ever had before. Then he began to panic, freezing when he realized he'd just come in Tucker's mouth and he had no idea if that was what Tucker wanted. 

Tucker swallowed down as much of the cum as he could before pulling off and wiping the rest from his chin with his wrist. He wrinkled his nose and brought his hands up to hold onto Wash’s hip, “God, porn makes it look like that would taste good. I was not expecting that.”

Wash's cheeks started to burn. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'll, like, invest in flavored condoms or something?" He offered, feeling...well, feeling a whole lot of things. 

Tucker stood and went to kiss Wash before pausing. He _probably_ wouldn’t appreciate the taste of cum. So, instead, Tucker pressed sweet kisses to Wash’s neck. “I love you.”

Some of the awkwardness melted away, and Wah started to let his body relax again.  
"I love you too, oh my god, Tucker. That was- I can't even put it into words. I'm- I'm sorry I've been so stuck in my head." Then he pulled Tucker up and kissed his cheeks and his jaw and his neck, unable to get enough. 

"Your turn, cowboy. Actually, no, forget I called you that. It's still your turn, though." 

Tucker laughed a little breathlessly and skirted his hands up to thread them into Wash’s hair. He rolled his head to bare more of his neck to Wash, “Can we- bed? My knees hurt.”

"Of course!" Wash said, awkwardly pulling his boxers and pants back up.

"However you're comfortable." 

“When’s your dad coming home?” Tucker asked shyly, the word sounding foreign on his lips. He pressed ahead, though, as he climbed onto Wash’s bed with his back supported on the headboard and his legs spread out in front of him to make room for Wash. “Because I know he’s supportive and all, but I don’t really know how loud I’ll end up being, so…”

"He said he was going bowling with work friends after work, so not for like at least another hour, unless something happens." Wash speculated, crawling onto the bed in between Tucker's legs. 

“Good,” Tucker nodded and pulled Wash forward. He buried his hands in Wash’s short hair and kissed the corner of his mouth before trailing kisses across his jaw to the spot underneath his ear that Tucker knew was sensitive. “Because I don’t want to stop. I’m pretty sure I’ve only ever wanted you this much whenever I’m about to wake up from a dream.”

Wash moaned into the kisses, running his fingers over Tucker's waistline, still hesitant to touch, still not quite convinced this wasn't a dream. A damn good dream. But he trusted Tucker, and Tucker trusted him. If someone who'd been hurt as badly as Tucker looked at him and saw something worth loving and trusting, then there was no way he'd ever be like Kaleb, was there?

Convincing himself of this, he let his hand trail down to rub Tucker through his boxers and his unzipped pants. 

Tucker gasped and hid his face in Wash’s shoulder. His hands tightened in Wash’s hair before he forced them to relax. “Sorry, I- uh is the hair pulling okay?”

Wash made a small noise, surprised himself at the answer. "Holy shit, yes."

Tucker huffed out a laugh and tugged on Wash’s hair. “Dear, I love you but if you do not get me out of these pants right now I’ll do it myself and ice you out for, like, a century.”

Wash took the hint and scooted back so he could tug Tucker's jeans off his legs, and set them behind him on the bed. Holy shit, this was gonna happen. His body itched to make Tucker feel good, to overwhelm all the past pain with pleasure, he wanted nothing more than to worship his body and never let him go. 

And he was allowed to. 

Tucker shrugged out of his shirt and moved down the bed to lay down. He wrapped his arms around Wash’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him, ignoring the taste of Wash that was still on his tongue. He could get used to it, actually. Maybe grow to enjoy it one day.

Wash cupped Tucker's jaw and kissed him like he was about to die, desperately and with abandon. He was reluctant to pull away, but he had bigger things in mind.

"Tell me if I should stop, okay?" 

“Don’t stop,” Tucker told him seriously. “I’ll tell you if you go too far, but if you stop right now, I might scream.”

Wash cupped the front of Tucker's boxers again, and turned to graze his teeth against his pulse point. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," He whispered into the flesh. 

Tucker whined loudly before biting down on his bottom lip in embarrassment. He felt his cheeks burn and turned his head to both give Wash more neck to work with and hide his face in the pillows.

"Please don't hide from me, you're face is the best part." Wash murmured, hooking his thumb under the elastic line of his boxers and tugging them downward. 

Tucker turned so that Wash could see his face, but closed his eyes. He let out a low whine and pushed his head back into the pillow, abused and slightly swollen lips parting as his nails scraped against the back of Wash’s neck. “Wash, please-”

"Now, when you ask like that, how am I supposed to refuse?" Wash said smugly, and pulled down Tucker's boxers as he leaned to kiss the other boy's jawline. "Not that I'd want to. I'm gonna move back so I can kneel down, alright?" He explained, so Tucker wouldn't be alarmed when he pulled away. 

Tucker nodded and tugged at Wash’s hair before pulling his hands away so that Wash could actually move. He opened his eyes and looked up at Wash, realizing that the power balance had shifted _a lot_ from earlier. Earlier had been about trust and even though Tucker was the one on his knees, they both knew that he was holding all of the cards.

Now Wash was hovering over him like a predator and the new dynamic has like a drug. Wash could do anything to Tucker right now and the realization made Tucker grab fistfuls of the sheets. He forced himself to take deep breaths, to prove to himself that he wasn’t completely gone from just this.

Wash stared down at Tucker for a moment, transfixed by the shift in the atmosphere and the effect it had on Tucker. He reached out to brush his fingers over Tucker's hair and kissed his forehead gently before shuffling downward and focusing his attention on his straining cock. Wash took it in his hand and grinned as he stroked it lightly, almost teasingly. It felt hot and heavy in his hands. He flicked his eyes up to watch Tucker's reaction. 

Tucker whined and rocked his hips into Wash’s hand, his eyes fluttering closed as he focused on Wash’s hand on him. “Wash,” He breathed out before thinking. He tightened his fists and tried to ignore the embarrassment, almost sure that Wash wouldn’t mind him being vocal. Almost.

Wash shuddered, and kept moving his hand. "Hearing you say my name like that would have given me a raging boner if I hadn't just come." He laughed, before leaning to tentatively lick up the slightly curved shaft. The skin itself didn't taste like anything in particular. In the back of his mind he already knew that from having Kaleb's penis shoved in his mouth, but that was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. He flicked his tongue over the slit at the top, watching Tucker the entire time. 

“Oh, fuck! Wash-!” Tucker bit down on his lip and writhed underneath Wash. He swallowed thickly and panted as lightning-like pleasure coursed through his veins. Fuck, so this is what that feels like. Good to know.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop being such a tease." Wash huffed, winking up at Tucker before moving to wrap his mouth around the top, laving his tongue over the head experimentally. He pulled his lips down a bit and opened his jaw more, not wanting to get any teeth involved. This exchange had already had its full share of awkward moments. 

Tucker cursed underneath his breath and blindly reached forward to wrap one hand around Wash’s bicep. “Fuck, you might wanna...hold down the hips.”

Wash followed that instruction gratefully, but tried not to press down too hard. Tucker had had enough bruises in his lifetime. Wash took his cock deeper into his mouth, but didn't dare try and push himself. He used his free hand- the one not pressed to Tucker's hip- to wrap around the base like he'd seen in porn, like Tucker had done. Then he started to bob up and down, moving his tongue around to see what Tucker liked best. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _Wash_ ,” Tucker gasped and arched his back. He dug his fingernails into Wash’s arm and thumped his head back against the bed. It felt like he could sense everything for the first time, the feeling of the soft sheets against his back and in his fist, the smell of Wash that had only just started sticking to his new room, the taste of Wash on his tongue, Wash’s warm hand holding him down while his other hand worked him and Wash’s mouth and--

It was like his senses were being overwhelmed with everything that was his boyfriend. It was dizzying and amazing and Tucker loved it.

Wash felt a warm, triumphant feeling clos son in his chest as he saw and felt how good he was making his boyfriend feel. So that was why people enjoyed this so much. Looking up at Tucker's blissed out expression, Wash was suddenly convinced he's found the answer to life, the universe, and everything. And it sure wasn’t 42.

He sucked with more enthusiasm, picking up a rhythm between his mouth, hand and tongue. Then he mixed it up by pulling off and flicking his tongue over the slit, since he knew from experience how sensitive it was.

"Don't be afraid to come in my mouth, I figure it's only fair." Wash said quickly, before taking him into his mouth again and picking up the rhythm once more. 

Tucker groaned and threw his head back, writhing underneath Wash. He brought both hands up to grab Wash’s hair and pulled at it. He felt heat coiling in his stomach and white hot energy coursing through him. Wash might’ve said that it’d be okay, but Tucker wanted to at least give the blond a warning before letting go. “Fuck, Wash- I’m close-”

Wash moaned around the shaft in his mouth at the feeling of Tucker pulling on his hair, and at the sound of his name like that. 

Wash had no idea how to properly prepare himself for come entering his mouth, so he sped up his hand and pulled back slightly so he was just laving and sucking on the head. He imagined leaving more room in his mouth would help. He kept his eyes on Tucker, desperately wanting to watch him as he came. He wanted to see how his face would change at the edge of pure pleasure. 

Tucker forced open his eyes to look down at Wash as he moaned his boyfriend’s name. His brain short-circuited at the sight of Wash’s head in between his legs and he came hard. 

His mouth fell open as he moaned Wash’s name. His toes curled and his back arched and his vision turned to white. He breathed hard as he rode out the pleasure, hands curling into tight fists before opening to absentmindedly smooth out Wash’s hair. “Oh god, Wash.”

The sensation of the orgasm in his mouth was awkward, but he was ready and quickly swallowed it as he watched Tucker's orgasm face with rapt attention. He wanted to hear his name like that as much as possible, wanted Tucker to writhe and pant with pleasure as often as he could get him too. He wished he could just keep them here, and wrap themselves up in each other's pleasure and never let anything hurt them. 

 

He pulled away and wiped his arm over his mouth, softly running his hand down Tucker's thigh.

"Are you alright, love?" 

Tucker whimpered slightly but nodded and moved his thigh closer to Wash’s hand. He tugged gently on Wash’s hair, “Come up here and cuddle with me and I’ll be golden.”

Wash crawled upwards, laying down next to Tucker. He moved his legs back a bit, to give Tucker room to pull up his stuff. 

"Need help with your pants?" 

Tucker pulled on his boxers and pants before curling into Wash’s chest, wrapping his arms around Wash’s neck to lightly scrape his nails over Wash’s head. He shook his head a negative, “Nah, just wanna lay here with you.”

He blinked twice before pulling away, “Unless you don’t want to cuddle, then I’m good with just taking a nap or a shower. Whatever you want.”

Wash wrapped his arms around Tucker and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before smiling. 

"Laying here sounds like perfection." He said softly, looking over Tucker's features with affection before breathing in deep through his nose.

"I love you. So much. I never meant to hurt you." He doesn't know if it's the right time or the right place but damnit, it needs to be said. 

Tucker leaned in to kiss Wash gently before pulling away and resting his forehead on Wash’s, “I know that you didn’t. And I did get hurt, but, Wash, I already forgave you.”

Wash smiled sadly. "You did, but I didn't. At least, not till now." He reached and brushed a thumb over Tucker's cheekbone.

"This is gonna sound super gay, but you're really fucking beautiful."

Tucker blinked at Wash before looking down at the nonexistent space between them and smiling shyly. He brought one hand down from Wash’s hair to run it down Wash’s arm until he could squeeze Wash’s hand. “We just blew each other, I think we’re allowed to sound a little gay. Well, like 50% gay for me, but still. We cannot escape the gay, so we should just embrace it.”

Wash laughed. "I'm good with that. More than good."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is mostly just a filler, but it introduces the next conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _just listen to the playlist_

Tucker came down from his orgasm to the feeling of Wash’s arms wrapping around his middle. He turned and nuzzled his face into the crook of Wash’s neck, trying to leech off his boyfriend’s warmth whenever his veins started to feel like they were icing over. “‘M cold.”

Wash chuckled lightly and pulled his blanket over their naked bodies before pulling Tucker impossibly closer. “Better?”

“Mmm...better with you,” There was a slight slur to Tucker’s words, as if he was just a little bit drunk, and that was what made Wash’s eyebrows furrow.

“Are you okay, babe? I mean, I know I was a bit more...demanding...and if you didn’t like it you could’ve said--”

Tucker shook his head violently and his hands on Wash’s chest curled into fists, the fingernails lightly scraping against Wash’s skin. “No, I like it. I love it. I want it to be good for you, too.”

Wash blinked down at Tucker’s hair in concern. He made a mental note to research this...whatever it was later and pressed a kiss to the crown of Tucker’s head. “It was, love. It was great. You were great.”

At that, Tucker seemed to perk up a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wash nodded and pulled away just enough to smile lovingly at Tucker. He moved one arm from Tucker’s waist to run it through his dreads. “You were perfect. So beautiful and good.”

Tucker smiled softly up at Wash and tilted his head up. His lips parted to say something before they pursed together in a sequence of moves Wash had long since memorized. Tucker may know Wash’s tells, but in some situations, Wash could read Tucker like a book. This move was the one Wash had dubbed the ‘I-want-to-kiss-you-but-[insert insecurity here]’. He leaned down slightly to close the gap between to two of them and pressed his lips to Tucker’s gently.

He smiled into the kiss as he felt Tucker almost melt against him, Tucker’s lips were soft, and Wash vaguely hoped there wasn’t any cum left over on his own. Not that he thought Tucker would mind all that much at this point. A few days had passed since the beginning of this new level of their relationship, handjobs and blowjobs, pleasuring each other when they had moments alone. And it was amazing. Still, there was a new tension. The expectation that eventually, it was supposed to go deeper than that. That was a big deal. It was probably a ways away, though, Wash shouldn’t worry himself over it. Besides, him and Tucker had gone through so much together, they had a bright future ahead of them.

“I love you, so much.” He said when he pulled away from the kiss, wishing there were better words to describe the profound feelings that swelled in his chest. 

Tucker grinned, the warmth between them addictive. “I love you more.”

“Do not!” Wash protested.

“Yes, I do!” Tucker responded, poking him in the chest. Wash just snorted.

“Agree to disagree, I guess.” He said with a small, happy laugh that tasted like honey on his tongue.

\----------

Wash hummed to himself as he walked around the house changing the garbage bags, earbuds in and hips swaying. He honestly didn’t mind chores all that much, unlike other teenagers. They weren’t hard, and gave him a chance to listen to music and feel accomplished. He reached to grab the bag out of Tucker’s garbage by the door, but paused. He picked up the folded piece of paper on top. _US Naval Sea Cadet Corps- Chart Your Future!_

It was a military pamphlet. Wash felt a sudden sense of surety that if he dug through the rest of the garbage, there would be more brochures and pamphlets. But he didn’t want to be the kind of significant other who snooped through garbage, he hadn’t really _meant_ to pick this up...he dropped the pamphlet back in the garbage and tied up the bag. His heart was pounding. He remembered all the conversations they used to have about their futures, before they’d gotten together, before everything had gone to hell. 

Back then, he hadn’t wanted to comment on his disapproval of Tucker’s goal to join the military, because he hadn’t thought he’d had the right. And he’d always hoped he’d eventually change his mind. That had been almost - god, a year or so ago, more? Graduation was close. And Tucker was looking through military packets. He still wanted to join the military? He still thought that was his only option, that that was all he was worth? Tucker used to say that the military was his only option if he wanted to have any sort of future, but everything had changed now! Hadn’t it? 

Wash supposed in all the madness, he’d forgotten the impending doom. He felt strangely guilty for that. Wash grabbed the bag and stood, and began his descent down the stairs. Should he talk to Tucker? They were in a good place, they loved each other, they trusted each other. They should be able to have a civilized conversation. It wasn’t like Washington had meant to snoop, he’d just picked it up before he’d thought about it. He nodded to himself. A civilized conversation. Perhaps get his father involved, make it a family discussion. No, no, no, he should talk to Tucker himself first. He didn’t want Tucker to think they were ganging up on him or anything. 

\-------

Tucker rounded the corner into the living room to find Wash sitting on the couch, elbows perched on his knees, gaze unfocused, and leg shaking restlessly. Tucker’s eyebrows furrowed as concern flowed through his veins.

“Love?” He asked as he shrugged out of his jacket, feeling even more like something was wrong whenever Wash jumped three feet in the air. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-” Wash started, standing to face Tucker. “I was cleaning today.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry? I thought you liked cleaning. Do you want me to pick up some extra chores--”

“No, sorry, I’m...trying to figure out how to say this without sounding confrontational or like I’m snooping on you,” Wash’s words rushed out without thought, based on the pained expression that took over his face after the sentence hung in the air for a beat. “I meant--”

“You weren’t snooping, which means that you found something by accident,” Tucker guessed, earning a decisive nod from Wash. “Confrontational meaning that you disagree with it. Today’s Tuesday, which means that it’s trash day, so I’m guessing in the trash?”

“The Navy, Tucker?” The dam inside of Wash that had been holding back his exasperation and desperation broke as he watched Tucker’s face go carefully blank. “Tucker, you are worth--”

“I’m sorry, hold on,” Tucker held up his hands at Wash to make him pause for a minute. “You knew that this was part of my plan. This has never been a secret. The only way I can go to college is if--”

“That’s not true, Tucker!” Wash interrupted. “You’re smart. In science you’re a goddamn genius! If you apply for scholarships-!”

“What? I can put off joining the military until the rejection letter comes in the mail?” Tucker stopped Wash’s train of thought immediately.

“Who the hell said you’d get rejected? I want to know who in the actual hell--”

“Wash--”

“--gave you this twist self image--”

“Can we please not talk about this!?” Tucker’s voice changed, clipping into that small, vulnerable voice. The one that Wash would be happy to forget. The one that had said the ‘Who cares?’ that haunted Wash’s nightmares. 

Wash knew what Tucker was doing, knew that this was just another way to ignore that there was a problem here, but...Wash couldn’t push him. He stepped forward and collected Tucker into his arms, holding as tightly as Wash dared. He buried his nose to the crown of Tucker’s dreads and inhaled the smell of honey and peppermint oil that seemed to follow his boyfriend everywhere, rejoicing internally whenever he felt Tucker melt against his chest.

“I love you,” Wash whispered against Tucker’s hair. “I don’t want to lose you.”

There was a pause and Wash could feel Tucker’s eyelashes fluttering closed against his neck.

“I love you, too.”

\-----------------

“So should we have a talk about...you know...safe sex?” Tucker asked, poking his toe into Wash’s leg whenever his boyfriend let out a confused noise.

Wash frowned at Tucker thoughtfully. "We've been using condoms ever since the first time, and we haven't done anything more..." He didn't quite understand the question.

Tucker shook his head. "No, I mean, like...safe words and stuff. Because I love when you're in control, man, don't get me wrong! But with our history, I just want to make sure we..." Tucker waved his hand.

Wash's eyes widened. "Oh!" Then he grinned. "We probably should have a safe word, yeah. especially considering how much you like to be manhandled." 

Tucker flushed slightly. "Shut up, this is a serious conversation." 

Wash nodded. "I agree! But knowing what we like and what we don't is serious too, wouldn't you say? And what exactly is a safe word supposed to be?" He added, cocking his head. 

Tucker shrugged and pursed his lips slightly as he thought. “Something that we’d never really talk about or mention, especially whenever we’re about to have sex. I don’t know…”

Wash furrowed his eyebrows to think about it. Something he’d never even want to think of whenever he and Tucker were intimate? Maybe something that would immediately crush the mood? Maybe it should have something to do with one of his triggers.

~~Maybe it should have something to do with Tucker leaving.~~

Something that even the mention of it would be enough to pull Wash or Tucker back like a dog on a leash. (Do not picture Tucker on a leash, Wash, this is a serious conversation.)

_What about Kaleb?_

_Fuck, nope. Abort, abort, **abort, abort** \--_ “Kentucky!”

Tucker blinked up at Wash’s sudden outburst. “Uh...yeah, I guess ‘Kentucky’ would work? Unless the fifty nifty United States secretly turn you on.”

“Oh yes, well, you know me. Can’t wait to get fucked by Florida,” Wash told his boyfriend sarcastically before lightly pushing his shoulder. Tucker fell down against the comforter on Wash’s bed, dramatically clutching the spot.

“But, my love, how can you betray me like this?” Tucker waxed poetic as he grinned up at Wash, who moved across the bed to hover over him.

“I have a thing for retired white guys who wear socks and sandals. You were just a cover up,” Wash joked before pressing a kiss to Tucker’s pouting lips. “Come on, we should get downstairs and help with the decorating before actual steam comes out of Dad’s ears.”

“For someone so tall, you’d think he’d be able to pin things up.”

“Nah, he can pin things, the banners and shit just always turn out crooked. And Melinda has gotten weirdly OCD--”

“Pick a new word,” Tucker reminded Wash lightly.

“--weirdly _anal_ about things being straight while she’s pregnant. Which is ironic, considering.” Wash finished.

“Considering what?”

“Considering the fact that, as you say, we cannot escape the gay,” Wash grinned down at Tucker.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tucker smiled as he propped himself up on his forearms and pressed his lips against Wash’s.

 _Too bad it has to change_ , Wash fought to keep his face light as his thoughts returned to the infamous Navy brochure.

_US Naval Sea Cadet Corps- Chart Your Future!_


	28. don't say a word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 times things got rough and Tucker was like YES PLS  
> +1 time things got rough and Tucker was like SWERVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I found you all alone  
> Shaking tired, but looking lost  
> I came to take you home  
> And we're walk in silence  
> Side by side!  
> And I-I-I just wanna lay you down your burdens, all your fears  
> And I-I-I don't need your deepest secrets  
> Whisper in my ear"  
> -"Hear Your Heart" by James Bay

Tucker was frustrated.

“I mean, obviously his materials got a null result! None of them were shielded! This asshole tries to dispute my findings because his own aren’t up to snuff because _he did the experiment wrong_ \--” Tucker waved his hands around as Wash watched with amusement.

The two of them were in the kitchen, Wash leaning against the counter while Tucker paced back and forth, ranting about his physics class. “Tucker?”

“--I mean, _sure_ null results are crucial to scientific advancement, but that just means that his _materials_ couldn’t block the magnetic field! The fact that his experiment was admissible compared to mine whenever we used such different--”

“Tucker?” Wash put a bit more force behind the word, having been trying to pull Tucker out of this particular rant for about fifteen minutes.

“--materials! It’s utter horse shit and Mrs. Reyes didn’t even blink at the fact that our experiments were so completely different--”

“Tucker!” Wash called out again, stepping towards Tucker. Tucker didn’t even notice.

“--she straight up told us to collaborate-- _fucking collaborate with that douche_ \--and come up with some consistent results! Like, let’s just ignore the fact that I did multiple trials with diverse materials--”

Wash rolled his eyes and pushed Tucker against the counter. He grabbed Tucker’s shoulders and pressed their lips together harshly. He felt Tucker tense underneath him before melting. Tucker let out a high pitched whine and grabbed the front of Wash’s shirt to pull him closer. Wash moved his hands down Tucker’s shoulders to pull Tucker’s hips against his.

Wash broke away and watched in something akin to amusement as Tucker blinked sluggishly, slightly swollen lips parted.

“Sorry for being so rough,” Wash kissed Tucker’s cheek sweetly. 

“No, no. That was- that was fine. Good, maybe even great. Great, definitely great. 10/10 would recommend. Feel free to make me shut up again,” Tucker babbled. He trailed his hands up Wash’s neck to bury them in his hair. “Anytime of the day. Like seven hours of the night--I’ll open my entire schedule. Dedicate it all to you shutting me up.”

Wash leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tucker’s gently. “I had something that I was actually going to talk to you about.”

“What was it?” Tucker asked, still slightly dazed.

“I cannot remember,” Wash laughed quietly.

\-----------------

David Washington was fairly certain he had pissed someone off big time in a past life. Why else would the universe torture him like this? He was _supposed_ to be working on an essay, but a certain Lavernius Tucker was making it impossible. All Wash seemed to be able to do was stare at his boyfriend, who was sitting in the computer chair with his feet propped on one of the bars holding up the desk, flicking through a book. He was completely engrossed in whatever the hell he was reading, eyes flicking over the page, and absentmindedly biting on his _goddamn_ lip. He wasn’t trying to be sexy, he was just reading, but something about his actions made it impossible for Wash to look away or think straight.

His dad was literally down the hall, in his office. He couldn’t go jumping Tucker’s bones, no matter how much he wanted that mouth on him. How much of a slut did it make him, if just the sight of Tucker doing something so miniscule got him all hot and bothered? Then again, he was only a slut for Tucker, so it was alright. 

Wash ripped his eyes away from the other boy and directed them back down at his paper. _Get the job done, Washington, this is due the day after tomorrow!_

The effort was fruitless, however. Eventually, after he reread one word three times, he gave up. He set the notebook and pen aside, and rose up from the bed. Tucker was so invested in his book, he didn’t notice Wash’s movements. He had a tendency to lose himself in things like that. Wash strode forward, a familiar heat rippling under his skin. He picked up a bookmark from the desk and slipped it into the book. This caught Tucker’s attention, and he jerked to blink up at Wash. 

Before Tucker could ask, Wash grabbed Tucker’s jaw - firmly, but not harshly. He tilted his head to kiss him roughly, desperately. He felt Tucker shudder and relax under his mouth and hands, and the book slipped from his boyfriend’s hands to clatter to the ground. Tucker reached a hand up towards Wash, and Wash intercepted it with his other hand, intertwining their fingers and pressing him harder back against the large chair. Tucker’s back arched up a little, and he eagerly responded to the movements of Wash’s demanding mouth. After a moment, Wash drew away to draw a breath, grinning. Tucker’s eyes were blown wide and his lips where slick and red from the intensity of the kiss. 

“Hello to you too…” Tucker said dumbly, slightly dazed, and Wash laughed before moving in again. 

\-----------------------

They were about twenty minutes into some cheesy rom com whenever Tucker had apparently grown bored. Maybe it was the heteronormativity of the movie or how the entire cast was fifty shades or white or the borderline stalkerish way the guy was "romancing" the girl. 

No matter _why_ Tucker was bored, he was. And apparently, whenever Tucker gets bored, his go-to for keeping his attention was Wash. Specifically teasing Wash. 

Wash swallowed thickly and tried to concentrate on the movie and not the way Tucker's hand was moving up his thigh or the way Tucker's face was rested on his shoulder. The way Tucker's lips were pressed, barely there against the crook of Wash's neck. The way Tucker's breath fanned out over Wash's sensitive collar bone. 

The way that they were sitting far enough in the back of a not very crowded theatre that Wash could just turn his head and kiss Tucker until they were breathless and no one would notice.

And then Tucker's barely there lips pursed. Then they started to press against Wash's neck with more conviction, up to Wash's ear. Wash let out a quiet whimper.

"Wash, please," Tucker whispered, having discovered already that being vocal with Wash was like waving a feather in front of a kitten. 

The teasing, it seemed, worked. The next thing Tucker knew, Wash was moving. Their lips met in a hard, slightly desperate kiss as Wash leaned over the armrest in between them to press him chest over Tucker's and keep the smaller teenager pinned to the seat. 

He didn't know how long they were kissing, but whenever Wash pulled away, Tucker wasn't panting underneath him, eyes screwed shut, mouth half open. He made a tiny little desperate noise and moved up, chasing after Wash's lips and making Wash let out an amused sigh.

Wash waited until Tucker opened his eyes before shaking head head. "You're gonna be the death of me," he breathed out an easy amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

A smile that grew whenever Tucker grinned and nodded.

"Definitely."

\-----------------------

Wash tapped his pen anxiously against the desk, resisting the urge to go downstairs and wait by the damn door. He didn't want to seem THAT desperate. 

Tucker had been gone for two days. Sister was redecorating her room, and she's somehow roped Tucker into spending two nights at the Grif household to help. Tucker said Sister had some sort of dirt on him that prevented him from saying no. Tucker refused to tell him the said dirt, however.

Tucker should be home any minute, and Wash was practically itching to be with him again. It was strange, but ever since Tucker had moved in, it was almost torture for them to be apart. At least, it was for Wash. He had no idea how Tucker felt. Wash clenched his fist tighter around the pen.

A familiar darkness in him told him that Tucker probably enjoyed having some time away from him, but he quickly dismissed it. Whether or not Tucker was as desperate to see him was still a question, though, so he had decided not to act too desperate himself.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door opened and he whirled around in his chair to see Tucker. An exhausted looking Tucker.

"Hey, babe. Miss me?" Tucker asked, taking a step into the room. 

Wash couldn't respond, he just smiled widely and stood up. He quickly crossed to Tucker and yanked him into his arms, hugging him tightly before pulling him into a kiss. A desperate, heady, aggressive kiss that came as a result of separation. Tucker melted into the kiss, body practically falling into Wash's taut arms. Wash pulled away from Tucker's mouth to kiss down his jaw and suck at his neckline, hands running over him. Tucker let his head fall back with a shudder. 

"I'll take that as a yes."

\-----------------------

Tucker grinned as he stood on his toes to look over Wash to watch his boyfriend flip a pancake perfectly. He had his hands settled on Wash’s hips and his chin resting on the dip in Wash’s shoulder. Jason was out for the day, having left that morning with a parting goodbye and a knowing wink. 

“See? You don’t need my help,” Tucker turned his head to the side to press his lips into the side of Wash’s neck. 

“Well, my love, maybe I just wanted your arms around me,” Wash grinned and slid the last pancake onto Tucker’s plate. He turned the stove off before turning around to look down at his boyfriend. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Tucker’s, turning his head from side to side to brush their noses together until Tucker’s lips widened for a happy grin.

“You’re a sappy piece of shit, you know that?” Tucker fell back onto the heels of his feet, putting the tiniest amount of distance in between them. “I cannot believe you insisted on making us breakfast.”

“I wanted to do something for you,” Wash admitted, a light blush tinting the top of his cheeks.

Tucker grinned, “You’re so domestic.”

“You’re one to talk,” Wash raised an eyebrow.

“You love to clean, you make me breakfast,” Tucker continued.

“Oh my god, Tucker.”

“You’re just the best eye candy, always put together.”

“Tucker, please, I am begging you--”

“HDon’t beg, my love, it makes you unappealing to potential husbands,” Wash was sure that if Tucker’s smile got any wider, his face would break in half. Unfortunately, Wash was pretty much in the same position. He leaned his forehead against Tucker’s again and breathed out a strangled laugh.

“Shut up, Tucker.”

Tucker’s eyebrows moved up into his hairline and his smile morphed from pleased to daring. “Make me, Wash.”

Wash exhaled through his nose and moved forward. He brought one hand up from Tucker’s back to cradle the back of his head and pull him forward while the other wrapped around Tucker’s waist. He felt Tucker’s hands leave his hips to run up his chest and curl into fists, tugging Wash closer as he returned the kiss just as harshly.

Wash bit down on Tucker’s bottom lip and took advantage of the resulting gasp to slip his tongue into Tucker’s mouth. He pushed Tucker back roughly until the sound of a human being colliding with a wall stopped him. 

He felt Tucker stiffen almost instantly underneath his hands. Concern sparked in him, but before he could pull back and ask if Tucker was okay, Tucker's hands turned from clutching to pushing. They didn't quite shove him, they really didn't have much strength behind them. But the very act caused Wash to pull away. 

"Tucker?" He asked. Tucker was pale and his eyes were wide, his hands still held out in front of him. Said hands were shaking.

"Kentucky." Tucker managed to get out roughly after a silent moment. Wash stared at him, horrified. 

"What's wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, if I did." He assured Tucker, taking another step back. What had gone wrong? Tucker usually liked him being a little demanding, what had-

Then it hit him. He remembered the dents in the walls of Tucker's old house, the bruises on Tucker's shoulders. God, how could he have been so tactless? So thoughtless? The last thing Tucker needed was to be shoved back into walls by another person who was supposed to take care of him.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." 

“No, no,” Tucker shook his head as he screwed his eyes closed and tried to just fucking _think, goddammit_. “I- just let me- let me calm down.”

_His father’s hand wrapped around his shoulder, right next to his neck. Tucker panicked, pulling away from him and his angry eyes and giant form. His father had been pissed at him before but he’d never done anything too bad. He wouldn’t. He **wouldn’t** , would he?_

Wash watched in something akin to helplessness whenever Tucker opened his eyes and his face was completely terrified. “I won’t hurt you, Tucker. I’d never hurt you.”

“No, I know,” Tucker shook his head. “No- I- it’s stupid, I know.”

“No, love, I didn’t--” Wash sighed and pulled his hands away from Tucker’s back to hold Tucker’s hands. “Squeeze my hands.”

_Tucker felt the drywall give way underneath the pressure of his shoulder, controlled by his father’s hand. Pain bloomed underneath his skin as he brought his other hand up to muffle the pained shriek._

_“You fucking listen to me--” His father roared, the voice barely even decipherable through the overwhelming tempo of Tucker’s own pulse in his ear, but he’d accented the words with another push against Tucker’s shoulder. “--whenever I’m talking to you, you piece of **shit**.”_

“Tucker,” Wash gently pushed Tucker’s hands back against his chest. “Push against me, love. Squeeze my hands. Focus on it.”

Tucker nodded and focused on Wash’s hands in his own. He squeezed as hard as he could and pushed back against Wash’s arms. He didn’t let himself close his eyes, made himself focus on Wash until the worst of the panic left him, leaving him feeling cold and alone.

“I didn’t- I don’t think that you’ll hurt me, ever. Not- not on purpose,” Tucker stared at Wash’s chin, not quite ready to look into Wash’s expressive grey eyes. He didn’t want to see the anger--or worse, pity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid,” Wash shook his head and leaned forward to press a kiss to Tucker’s forehead. “I was trying to reassure you. Like you always do for me. Turns out I’m not as good as you. Surprise, surprise.”

The corners of Tucker’s mouth twitched upward, “You’ll learn.”

Wash gave Tucker a small grin before turning serious, “Do you...want to talk about it?”

Tucker took a deep breath and looked up at Wash. The conflict was shown on Tucker’s face. Wash knew that Tucker was leaving--soon--but he _knew_ that Tucker needed to talk about this. At least a little. Tucker knew that if it had gotten to the point that it was interfering with Wash…

“The day you and Church came to...take me away from my parents...it was-” Tucker took a deep breath and shook his head. “My dad, I- you’ve fucking seen him. He’s huge. But he’s always- it had always been my mom doing the most damage. But he- I _couldn’t_ speak, Wash. I wasn’t- I wasn’t looking for attention or crying out for help, I’d open my mouth and the words wouldn’t come out and it happened at home before you ever even fucking knew about it.”

Guilt flashed over Wash’s features before he schooled them. This wasn’t about that. He squeezed Tucker’s hand and soaked up the information like he was a sponge.

“It was bad before the muteness but then it was just a fucking nightmare. I didn’t answer him and he- I thought he was gonna choke me, his hand was so fucking close to my neck. My shoulder was dislocated. I had to go to Claire and do the fucking _mute_ version of just _begging_ her to not tell you. I don’t even know _why_ , I was such a mess. I had held myself together for so long, told myself that I- that I had to stay strong for you, for Church, for any fucking thing I could possibly think of.” Tucker curled his hands tighter around Wash’s and took another deep breath to try and center himself.

“You remember the first thing you said to me? After you got your words back?” Wash asked quietly.

“No. I can barely remember anything that happened that entire week other than the car’s headlights.” Tucker admitted, feeling even worse.

“I was yelling at you. Telling you that you could’ve died and you said ‘Who cares?’. Two words. Two words that completely obliterated my heart,” Wash pursed his lips and looked down at Tucker. “And then, immediately after, you told me you loved me.”

Tucker let out a watery chuckle. He didn’t resist whenever Wash tugged him forward, he let himself melt against his boyfriend’s chest--marveling at how he could feel so safe whenever Wash would rest his chin on the crown of Tucker’s head and wrap his arms around him.

“I feel like that sorta encompasses our relationship,” Wash admitted. “But, I want you to know that...no matter what happens, you never have to hide from me. I love you. You never have to hide your experiences from me or try to be strong for me. We’re constantly stuck in this cycle of one of us hurting while the other shoulders the entire fucking world like our lives are the plot to some bad fanfiction. We don’t have to do that. You can let me know whenever you’re hurt. I want to know. I want to hold you and comfort you. I want to be there for you.” 

_While I still can. While you’re still here. While you’re still mine._

Tucker let out a muffled sob against Wash’s neck and nodded, bringing his hands up to circle Wash’s waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~"There you see her  
>  Sitting there across the way  
> She don't got a lot to say  
> But there's something about her  
> And you don't know why  
> But you're dying to try  
> You wanna kiss the girl."  
> - **"Kiss the Girl" by Disney**~~


	29. stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this took so long
> 
> welp, this chapter is very nsfw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand  
> But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man  
> These nights never seem to go to plan  
> I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?
> 
> Oh, won't you stay with me?  
> 'Cause you're all I need  
> This ain't love, it's clear to see  
> But darling, stay with me"  
> -"Stay With Me" by Sam Smith

Nothing good comes easily, but it's quick to go away. The bad comes swiftly but takes damn long to fade. That was something Jason Washington had learned far too young. Then again, that seemed to be how it always went in this world. Youth brought tragedy, and age brought memory. Some treasured, some locked away in the mind. He remembered a lot of things. He remembered the crack of a whip, vividly recalled wanting to die. 

But another set of memories took precedence over those dark ones in his mind. The recollection of how it felt to hold his beautiful baby boy for the first time. The world had seemed to be glowing bright, tinted gold around his eyes as he looked down at his flesh and blood. He remembered the feeling of his heart stopping and soaring all at once when that tiny little hand had closed around his callused finger. 

He remembered watching his golden haired boy run around the backyard with a dark skinned laughing boy. He remembered how it felt to practically get on his hands and knees and beg his superiors not to move him to Mother Of Invention, begging them not to uproot his family. Begging to not have to leave that laughing boy all alone with people he knew didn't _care._

He remembered noise all around, and the car closing in on them from all sides, and then darkness. So much darkness. And when he had finally woken up from that abyss, he found himself stepping into an even deeper dark. The darkness of his sons' broken hearts. He will never forget the sight of them so broken and he will never forgive himself for leaving them to fend for themselves.

But he'll also never forget the way they clung together and rose above it, lashing out at any who would hurt the other. 

When he closed his eyes, the image of his wife smiling on their wedding night was always burned into the back of his eyelids. When he opened them, the image of his sons sobbing and covered in scars was always burned into the back of his mind. Oh, God, _the scars_.

He would do anything to sooth their pain, anything to give them back even the tiniest bit of light. Anything to give them memories surrounded by gold. They deserved to see the world in a glowy slow motion, as if they were in an indie romantic film. They deserved to let their own harsh memories fade away.

"Tell me, Tuck-Tuck, what's on your mind?" He asked with an easy, open smile. The kind he knew Tucker always responded too. He gave Tucker his undivided attention, setting his phone aside and letting his arms fall open.

Tucker smiled at him, that smile that Jason had first seen whenever Tucker was five years old and Wash had broken a vase. Tucker had convinced his friend to let Tucker take the fall and by the time Jason got there, Tucker was starting his explanation with ‘please don’t be mad’.

“I need your advice,” Tucker started this time, making Jason tilt his head in curiousity.

“Advice on what?”

Tucker looked up at the ceiling of the study, trying to figure out how to word his problem. He gnawed on his bottom lip, “Wash and I may or may not be completely ignoring something that may or may not lead to us breaking up.”

Jason sat up straighter and furrowed his eyebrows. “Be kind, rewind.”

Tucker chuckled and brought one hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “The whole- you know my plan. Go into the military so that the United States can foot the bill for my college, go to college and maybe end up doing...something with my life, but--”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jason turned in his office chair and stood, waving his hand in the air. “You’re still going into the military? I thought that you told me that everything was set, what- what happened?”

“What do you mean?” Tucker blinked up at Jason in confusion. “Everything _is_ set, it’s been set for years--”

“You weren’t talking about the trust fund?” Jason squeaked.

There was a pause.

“What trust fund?” Tucker’s eyebrows were at his hairline as he stared at Jason with wide, confused eyes.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you while I was in-” Jason stopped himself with a sigh. “Well, no, yeah, that makes sense. Jesus, I thought that this was the one thing that that _bastard_ did right.”

 _”What trust fund?”_ Tucker demanded.

Jason blinked down at Tucker, “The one Thena and I set up for you years ago.”

Tucker stared at him in silent shock for a long moment. " _What?_ "

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "We started one years ago, and we wanted it to be a surprise. Every year Thena and I wrote a letter for Wash- and for you- that he was supposed to read if anything happened to us. Kaleb was supposed to give you that letter, and tell you about the money that we have saved up for both of you. It was stupid of me to think he'd done that. I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry. This is totally my fault. I should have addressed this earlier." Jason lamented in regret. They were in their _senior year_ , they should have known about this ages ago!

Tucker was still staring at him with the same expression. "You...I don't understand. Why would you do something like that?" He asked.

Jason's heart twisted, and he leaned forward to cup Tucker's jaw softly.

"There's a _lot_ of money in there, Tucker. And it's all for you. Because we love you, we always have. We know that money isn't the key to happiness, but in this world, it's damn great to be financially stable. We wanted you both to have an upper hand in such a hard world, that's why we lived in a middle class house and budgeted ourselves and lived comfortably, but not extravagantly. For a lot of reasons, but also so that we could use all that money for a good thing. You can go to any college you want, Tucker! You can do anything you set your mind to, and I'm not just saying that to be nice. You don't have to doom yourself to doing what you don't want to do to try and get ahead in the world." Jason assured him, heart swelling in pride. Tucker's eyes started to water as his world view shifted, and he lunged forward to tightly wrap his arms around Jason. 

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you...dad." Tucker whispered against his chest. Jason's heart soared and he returned the hug.

He'd never forget this, either.

\---------------

Tucker rapped his knuckles over Wash’s bedroom door lightly, head still spinning slightly from his conversation with Jason. 

He had a dad. A dad who set up a trust fund to take care of him. A dad who loved him.

A dad who had paved a way so that Tucker wouldn’t have to leave. Tucker could stay.

He had a dad.

~~And maybe a slightly incestuous relationship?~~

He had a dad and he could stay. He didn’t have to leave. He didn’t have to be afraid of telling Wash everything and then getting his heart broken by leaving. He could do anything--be anything. He could stay and go to college and be a teacher and rent some shitty apartment with Wash and they could be together. For as long as Wash wanted him, they could be together.

Wash pulled the door open and watched with a small smile as Tucker was pulled away from his thoughts, his hand still forming a loose fit and hanging midair.

“Did you need something, love?” Wash stepped away and held the door open. He walked back into his room and closed his history textbook. Something told him that this was important, and Wash would be damned before he let Tucker think that anything was more important than him. Tucker stepped in after him, pushing the door mostly closed behind him.

“I called Jason ‘dad’.” Tucker blurted out before making a pained face and shaking his head. “That wasn’t actually what I wanted to open with, but okay.”

Wash blinked down at Tucker and crossed his arms. “Seems fair. He calls you his son. It might’ve made his whole year better to hear you call him ‘dad’.”

Tucker paused, furrowing his eyebrows at Wash. “That doesn’t bother you?”

Wash tilted his head to the side curiously, “Why would it? I love that you have a parent that loves you just the same as I do. Well, not the same...”

Tucker let out a watery laugh and looked up at the ceiling, blinking quickly to try and dissipate the tears in his eyes. “He set up a trust fund for me.”

“A...trust fund?” Wash questioned, taking a step forward.

“Yeah, I can...pay for college. I don’t have to go into the military,” Tucker looked up at Wash’s face and grinned. “I can stay, if you want me to.”

Wash stared down at Tucker, trying to wrap his brain around this information. It wasn't that he didn't believe it- his parents were exactly the kind of people to start another trust fund for the kid they'd taken into their hearts. He didn't doubt for a second that they'd done that. 

But he'd resigned himself to being miserable, resigned himself to knowing Tucker was going to leave him. Not that he didn't respect their troops, it wasn't a debate about the military. It was the cold hard fact that Tucker was going to leave and there was a very large possibility he may not come back, and if he did, he would come back a changed person.

But that doom that he'd taken into his heart was suddenly wiped away, replaced by the endless possibilities. Them going to college. Maybe even going to college _together_. At least, in the same area. Buying an apartment together. Would they have a cat? Would they have plants? What nerdy reference would their wifi password be?

He blinked, trying to snap himself out of the future ideas. Tucker wasn't leaving. Tucker could stay. Stay with him.

Wash felt tears well up in his eyes. He’d forced himself to hide how much it had hurt, but now it all seemed to come out, coupled by an overwhelming joy. He reached out to cup Tucker’s face, smiling through the tears that were threatening to spill. 

 

“Please. Please, stay with me.” He whispered, the words he’d been aching to scream coming out softly. Tucker nodded, and Wash surged forward to kiss him. 

“I love you. I love you so much. You can be anything, you really can. A teacher, a writer, a scientist. I want to be there every step of the way.” Wash said, when they pulled away. His smile felt like it was never going to go away.

Tucker nodded, his smile mirroring Wash’s own. He reached to run a hand through Wash’s hair. “I want to stay. I always wanted to. I just didn’t think I could. I love you too, I love you so much. You always believed in me, even when I never did.” Tucker shrugged. “You and your parents both.” 

Wash kissed him again, gentler this time. Reveling in the fact that he could hold Tucker for as long as he wanted and nothing could come and pull them apart. Tucker melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Wash. Emotions poured through their touches, emotions that couldn’t be put into words even by someone like Wash. 

They finally broke away again, and rested their foreheads together. There was a beat of heavy, heart throbbing silence. Wash had a distant look in his eyes.

“I never stopped believing in you. Not once. Even when I...even when I was pushing everyone away. It never crossed my mind you wouldn’t go on to do great things, when I was gone. I want to give you everything, I want to be with you and watch you do those great things. I want us to do those great things together. Also, we need to get a cat. Non debatable.” Wash said, tracing his fingertips along the edge of Tucker’s face as he spoke. 

Tucker grinned up at Wash, surging upward to kiss Wash with everything he had. Wash curled his hands into Tucker's hair and pushed him back. He was careful to keep the push gentle as he used Tucker's back to close his bedroom door all of the way. He used his body to pin Tucker to the door and took control of the kiss, making it hard and demanding.

Tucker whined against Wash's lips and broke away to gasp for breath, rolling his head to the side whenever Wash dipped down to trail kisses over his throat. 

"Wash," Tucker breathed out, his hands in Wash's hair tightening. He tugged at Wash's hair until Wash pulled away and looked down at Tucker. "I want everything with you. I don't want to leave. I love you so much."

Wash grinned down at Tucker and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. 

"I love you, too.” Wash felt like his face was going to split in half, he was smiling so much. “I want everything with you, too. College, renting an apartment together, being together.”

Tucker let out a watery laugh and wrapped his arms around Wash’s neck. “I’m staying. For as long as you want me.”

“Forever,” Wash breathed out, bringing his hands forward to brush his thumbs over Tucker’s cheeks. Tucker grinned up at him and slid his hands down to hold Wash’s wrists loosely. He ducked his head and Wash could see a blush forming on the tops of his cheeks and ears. “Is there something else? Or have you just decided to be shy again?”

“I’m not shy!” Tucker protested, turning his head up to look at Wash. “I’ve never been shy!”

Wash rubbed his nose over Tucker’s sweetly, “You hide your face from me every time I get this close.”

Tucker pulled away a bit to blink at Wash. “I do?”

“Every time.”

Tucker’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, “I’m sorry, I- I’ll work on that.”

Wash chuckled lightly, “It was just an observation, love. Not a complaint. I think I’m pretty good at getting and keeping your attention.”

Tucker snorted and nodded, looking up at Wash through his eyelashes. “I don’t know, babe. We are kind of limited in options. There are only so many ways to blow someone.”

Wash raised an eyebrow, “Are you complaining?”

Tucker huffed out a laugh and shook his head, “No, just...suggesting that we could go a little further. I have always wondered what it would feel like to have you inside of me.”

Wash froze, eyes widening. "Wait, really? You've thought about that?" He asked, blushing slightly at the very mention of being inside Tucker. He would be lying if he said he himself hadn't been thinking about it a lot. 

“Wash, I’ve basically been in love with you my entire life.” Tucker admitted, moving his hand to bury his fingers in Wash’s hair and tug lightly. “I’ve thought about you pinning me to a wall and fucking me senseless since I hit puberty.”

Wash opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to say. He let his head follow the tug, blushing harder. He swallowed thickly, skin heating up under his clothes at the mental image Tucker painted.

"You have no idea how many times I've thought about that while I was...well, you know. I just never...." Wash swallowed, averting his eyes from Tucker's gaze, instead watching his own fingers trace down Tucker's neck and collarbone. They were so close, bodies pressed together. Wash suddenly ached to be closer, and his pants got a little tighter. He bit his lip, because he knew Tucker could probably tell. But he didn't pull away. 

"I guess I don't have to be afraid of losing you afterwards now..." He admitted. 

Tucker felt goosebumps follow Wash’s fingers, his skin and pants suddenly feeling too tight as he looked up at his boyfriend. He pressed his leg up against Wash’s erection, moving his hips forward to give Wash some friction. “I’m yours now, love. One hundred percent. Forever.”

He let out a small laugh and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. “God, thirteen year old me would be coming in his pants right now.”

Wash felt a thrill of exhilaration run through him, brain filled with a heady haze. All that mattered in the world was being with Tucker. 

"Thirteen year old me would have come in his pants the minute you mentioned being inside you." Wash replied with a smirk, leaning to press a kiss to Tucker's jaw.

Tucker huffed out a breathless laugh and tightened his hands in Wash’s hair, letting himself pull at the blond strands. “You were my first fantasy, you know. I closed my eyes and I pictured how you might age. I thought about you so much. All of this feels so much like a dream. If there was any such thing as fate, you know?”

Tucker shook his head, feeling his ears burning in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to babble while trying to seduce Wash. “Remember that I’m completely on board with you kissing me to shut me up.”

Wash grinned. "Maybe I like hearing you ramble, when it's about how much you want me. Tell me more. What did you think about, my mouth? My hands?" He specifically left out what he knew Tucker was really thinking about, smiling wider. 

“Lately?” Tucker asked, pulling Wash’s hair a bit harshly in revenge. “Your fingers. They’re long and calloused. I bet they’d feel great, working me open. I bet I could come on just that. I think about whether you’d be extra careful or if you’d let me feel the stretch whenever you’re finally inside of me. I wonder if you’d tease me, make me beg, watch me try to fuck myself on your fingers. I wonder how you’d take me, fast and hard or slow and teasing. Although, we might wanna save anything too loud for whenever your dad isn’t downstairs.”

Wash moved against Tucker's thigh and hips slowly as he kissed down his jaw, enticed by Tucker's words. Who knew he was such a dirty talker?

At the last sentence, Wash froze, and pulled back slightly.

"Wait, really? I thought I-" Wash frowned, and looked towards the window. Low and behold, the driveway was empty.

"No, I heard him pull out and drive off right before you came in here." Wash said, turning back to Tucker.

Tucker grinned to himself. Jason must’ve figured out what was going to happen here. Smart man, that Jason. Tucker moved forward to press himself against Wash and whispered in his ear.

“I guess that means that you can let me be as loud as you want, Wash.”

Wash felt a shudder run down his spine, and ground his pelvis back against Tucker's, enjoying the feeling of Tucker being as hard as he was. He tilted his head to graze his teeth along Tucker's pulse point, kissing it slowly. He pressed slow, sloppy kisses up Tucker's jaw until he reached his mouth again. Reluctantly, he eventually pulled away.

"I still have the condoms my aunts gave us, and the lube Claire gave me. That was an awkward exchange. But thanks to them, this is hopefully going to be as un-awkward as possible." Wash informed him, smiling and taking Tucker's hand. He walked back a little, jerking his thumb towards the bed.

"Care to join me?"

Tucker laughed and nodded. “Sounds great, love.”

He pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed and tugged on Wash’s hand, an idea forming in his head. “You know, scientifically speaking, your fingers are some of the most sensitive parts of you. You have to adapt to be able to filter out most sensation so that you aren’t overwhelmed. In new situations it can be harder,” He flicked his eyes up to Wash’s before focusing on his hand again. He brought the index finger to put just the tip in his mouth, laving his tongue around it the same way he did Wash’s dick before pulling off with a pop. “So? Overwhelmed yet?”

"Overwhelmed by your fucking nerdism, mostly." Wash said, trying to sound teasing. But in reality his breathing was heavier, and his eyes transfixed by Tucker's mouth. He felt like he couldn't move.

Tucker laughed lightly, “Maybe I should try a little harder then.” He pulled the finger back into his mouth, all of it, and sucked around it. He closed his eyes and moaned, picturing the finger inside of his ass, stretching him open. He opened his mouth and pulled away to look up at Wash. “Now?”

Wash gulped. "I-I'd say I'm fairly overwhelmed." Then he composed himself a little, and turned his attention to the task at hand. He pulled his hand away from Tucker, placing a hand on each of his shoulders and pushing the boy down onto the bed so Wash could kneel above him. 

"Now it's your turn." 

Tucker grinned up at Wash and wrapped his arms around Wash’s neck. He traced little designs into the back of Wash’s neck and leaned up to kiss the corner of his jaw. “Wash, you always overwhelm me.”

Wash smiled and kissed him again, trailing kiss down his neck and jaw before reaching his hands under the edge of Tucker's shirt.

"Mind if we get rid of this?" Wash asked.

“Please,” Tucker answered, pulling the fabric over his head and throwing it behind Wash like it had offended him. He pushed his fingers under the collar of Wash’s shirt and scraped his fingernails over the skin there. “I showed you mine?”

Wash leaned back and tugged the shirt over his head, unbalanced for a minute. But he managed to save himself, and tossed the shirt aside. A familiar darkness cringed, knowing his scars were exposed, but he's forced himself to stop listening to that ages ago. At least, when he was with Tucker. 

Wash leaned to kiss down his chest and press teasing, chaste kissed to both of Tucker's nipples. Meanwhile, he ran his fingers over the sensitive skin above Tucker's hip bones.

“You’re so smooth,” Tucker teased, pushing his hands down Wash’s back to touch as much of his boyfriend as he could. He tried to keep his breathing even, seem unaffected even as his hips bucked into Wash’s hand. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on teasing Wash, something that he could practically do in his sleep. “Really, you have practically swept me off my feet.”

Wash raised an eyebrow. "I’d rather sweep- actually, no, that wouldn't be sexy. Ignore that." He said, covering up his blunder by moving to kiss and suck at the most sensitive part on Tucker's neck.

“Wash!” Tucker gasped in surprise, digging his nails into Wash’s back. He let out a whine and rolled his head back, giving Wash more neck to work with. He brought his knees up on instinct to frame Wash’s hips and rolled his own into Wash’s hand. 

Wash smirked against Tucker's skin. He took his movements as encouragement, and let his hand wander down forward to rub his hardness through his pants. But he rubbed without rhythm, letting up and ghosting his fingers teasingly before cupping him again. 

“You- fuck, Wash,” Tucker screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath to calm himself. “God, Wash, please just fuck me already!”

Wash groaned, heat racing through him at Tucker's words. "I love it when you beg." He whispered against Tucker's ear. Then he pulled away and climbed off the bed, hooking his thumbs in the waist of Tucker's pants. He looked up to Tucker for permission, just to be sure. He didn't want anything to ruin this. 

Tucker nodded at Wash, part of him already trying to squirm out of his jeans. “Is that what you want from me, Wash? To beg for you to fill me?” 

Lately with Wash, Tucker had started getting more sensitive. He’d done some googling about it--the hazy feeling, almost like he was high--and come up with the explanation of ‘subspace’. It made him feel like he could fly, and every time Wash made him beg to held him down he just got higher and higher. It was dizzying and satisfying and breathtaking. It was like Wash was his drug of choice and if he just surrendered to him, the pleasure would be his reward.

Wash happily pulled Tucker's jeans and boxers off, letting them drop down to the floor. He unbuttoned his own pants, eyes roaming over his boyfriend's body hungrily.

"You really want it, don't you?" Wash said, pulling his pants and underwear down. He stepped out of them, never taking his eyes off Tucker. "Yes. Tell me how much you want it. How much you want me." Wash asked - demanded, was a better word. But that didn't mean Tucker couldn't refuse if he wanted too. He supposed it was somewhere in between. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you,” Tucker obeyed, letting himself start to babble. “I love you so much, I love the way you make me feel. Like I’m aching for you. I want you inside of me, want to be yours. Want you to mark me up and fuck me until I can’t walk. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve woken up so hard that it hurt because I was dreaming of you. I want you, Wash, please. Please fuck me. Please.”

Wash smiled, heart swelling. He couldn't believe he'd come so close to losing this, so many times. 

"Move up the bed, love. Let's get comfortable, so I can fuck you senseless." Wash said, turning towards his desk. He opened the first drawer and pulled out the lube and a string of condoms, hands shaking with anticipation.

Tucker nodded, scrambling up until his head was against a pillow. He drew his legs up and apart, let Wash see every part of him. He let his lands fall away from his thighs to his own chest, rubbing one thumb over a nipple and trying to stifle the resulting moan.

Fuck, Tucker's noises alone were going to kill him. Wash turned back towards the bed and bit his lip, letting his eyes roam because they could. He was allowed to look, to look at everything. 

He crossed to the bed and crawled up onto it, pressing kisses to the inside of Tucker's thighs, over his hip bones and then up the other thigh. He made a point to ignore his straining cock, looking up at Tucker's face the whole time out of the corner of his eye.

“Wash,” Tucker whined. He let one hand continue playing with his own nipple and let the other slide down his stomach to lightly stroke himself. Tucker groaned and rolled his head to the side, feeling his thigh start to tremble as he chased the pleasure.

Wash grinned, and leaned up to press a kiss to the top of the fingers Tucker had wrapped around himself. "Yes, love?" 

“Fuck me,” Tucker begged. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Wash’s neck, pulling him closer to kiss him. “Stop teasing, please. Don’t you want to be inside of me? My tight little ass wrapped around your cock? How desperate do you want me to be, babe?”

Wash surged into the kiss, and smiled at Tucker's words when he pulled away.

"Alright, alright, my ego has been stroked enough. Lay back, let's see if your fantasies about my fingers live up to reality." Wash said, reaching for the lube.

Tucker nodded and laid back. He cupped Wash’s face with his hands and lightly ran his thumb over Wash’s cheekbone. Tucker gnawed on his bottom lip a little before giving Wash a small smile, “I love you.”

"I love you too. So much. I love everything about you. I can't wait to make love to you." Wash said breathlessly. He opened the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers, rubbing it around between his fingers to coat them and warm up the substance. He'd done a lot of reading on this subject, but he still intended to take it slow. He braced an elbow on the blankets beside Tucker's head while his other hand reached between Tucker's legs. He dipped his head to kiss Tucker softly while his fingers rubbed around his hole. His own cocked twitched at the knowledge of what they were about to do. 

Tucker pressed his lips against Wash’s briefly before pulling away to take a deep breath and relax himself. He rolled his hips into Wash’s hand and kissed Wash again.

Wash worried over whether this would hurt, so he rubbed around the hole for a moment, hoping to relax Tucker a little. His middle finger was slightly narrower than his index finger, so he decided he'd go with that one first. 

"Are you ready?" He asked softly, breath ghosting over Tucker's lips.

“God yes,” Tucker breathed out, forcing himself to relax as much as possible.

Wash nodded, and returned to kissing Tucker as he slowly pressed his finger into the ring of tight muscle. He paid keen attention to everything, waiting for the slightest sign Tucker wanted him to stop.

Tucker let his eyelids flutter closed and rolled his head back into the pillow. He pushed against the finger with his hips, letting his mouth fall open and a small, high pitched whine fall from his lips at the feeling. It was weird, like an invasion. But...Tucker rolled his hips again and moaned, goddamn it felt good. A weird good, a confusing mix of sensations.

Jesus Christ, the word tight wasn't even appropriate. Nothing could describe the feeling of having Tucker press against his touch, slowly sliding his finger in and rubbing it over his inner walls. Smooth and fucking hot as hell. He didn't want to imagine what this would feel like around his dick, because he really didn't want to come right then and there. 

He stopped when his finger was as far in as it would go, letting Tucker adjust for a second. Tucker seemed to be liking it though, that was good. Wash ached to hear his noises, so he pulled his mouth away from Tucker's mouth and began to kiss and suck at his pulse point again, just as he started to move his finger in and out.

Tucker gasped Wash’s name. He rolled his hips into Wash’s finger encouragingly, letting out a startled moan whenever Wash’s finger brushed against a bundle of nerves and made him see stars. “Fuck, Wash, there. Right there, oh god.”

Wash pressed up with the pad of his finger softly, moving his finger over the spot for a moment experimentally. He loved hearing Tucker like this.

Tucker whined a high pitched whine that would’ve been embarrassing around anyone other than Wash. He wrapped his fingers around Wash’s shoulders and tried not to dig in with his nails. “More, Wash, please.”

Wash smiled into Tucker's neck, and obliged. He pulled his finger back and then slowly pressed in with his middle finger and index finger combined, tuned in do any negative reaction. God, this seemed like a dream. 

Tucker could feel the stretch, just on the right side of painful. He hissed in a breath and arched his back, pushing his chest against Wash’s as his mouth fell open to allow a broken moan to pass without any resistance. He held onto Wash like a lifeline and counted back from ten in his head. The last thing that you needed was for this to end before it even started.

"Good to know this is as sensitive as the rest of you." Wash murmured, licking over the hickey that was blossoming on Tucker's neck before moving a little down and pressing a kiss there. He pushed his fingers in and out, and began to turn them slightly as he did. He saw that in a lot of porn, he often wondered if it really felt good.

Tucker let out some unclassifiable noise that was a mix between a moan and a whine and started off sounding like Wash’s name but morphed into a litany of curses. Wash was going _so fucking slow_. It was dizzying and teasing and frustrating and Tucker felt tears in his eyes. He tried to ask Wash for more, faster, rougher, but all his scrambled mind could come up with was a loud, desperate moan and frantically rolling his hips in half-aborted, disconnected movements.

"Do you want more?" Wash asked, brushes his lips over Tucker's ear as he spoke. He moved his fingers apart slightly, to add to the stretch.

"P-please, Wash, fuck," Tucker breathed out. He needed Wash inside of him as soon as possible, needed to be filled. He whined and rolled his head to the side, a blush dusting over his cheeks whenever he realized how torn apart he was already. 

Wash stared down at Tucker, love washing over him.

"You're so beautiful. So fucking amazing." Wash said, pressing a kiss to the curve of his cheekbone. He pressed in a third finger, just to be safe. He pumped his fingers in and out, reveling in the way Tucker moved against him.

Tucker grinned dopily at the compliments and moved to press his lips against Wash’s, “I love you. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Wash chuckled happily. "We're not even there yet. I'll take that as a compliment." He said, and then he pulled his fingers out.

"Are you ready?" He asked, leaning back slightly. Anticipation thrummed through his veins, accompanied by nervousness that twisted in his stomach.

Tucker took a deep breath and cupped Wash’s face. He leaned forward to kiss him, “Whenever you are, love.”

Wash nodded, reaching and ripping on of the condom packets off, then ripping that open. He'd secretly practiced how to roll them on, to avoid any awkwardness. Yet, somehow, he still managed to fumble with it. He huffed and felt his face heat up, but managed to roll it down his shaft. He didn't particularly trust the shitty lube they put in condom packets, so he squirted a little more from the bottle and spread it over himself. He bit his lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise at the sensation of his own hand. 

Then his eyes flicked up to meet Tucker's. He felt so...vulnerable. But in a good kind of way.

"Are you still sure?" He asked, swallowing thickly.

“Very,” Tucker nodded, gently bringing one hand down to trace over the freckles on Wash’s chest. “Are...are you?”

"Yes. This is just- it's a lot. It means a lot to me. More than I can put into words." Wash said, looking down at the space in between them, then back up at Tucker. 

Tucker gnawed on his bottom lip and nodded. “And you’re sure you want to...with me?”

Wash leaned forward and kissed Tucker again. "I don't want to with anyone else. I've always wanted you. And I always will." 

Tucker grinned and pressed a kiss into the curve of Wash’s neck. “You have me, love. I trust you, I want you, and I’m very sure. I’m yours, Wash.”

This was happening. Holy fuck. Tucker loved him, trusted him. Even after everything he had done, Tucker trusted him enough to give him something Wash considered fucking _sacred_. He knew why everyone thought that way and that was alright, but to Wash...it was just so important. And Tucker wanted it, wanted to be with him. He gently pressed Tucker back down into the pillows, arms on either side of Tucker while he moved himself in between Tucker's spread legs. 

He looked up at Tucker, then leaned down to kiss him fiercely as he slowly and carefully guided himself into Tucker, only pressing slightly down. His head slipped in and _holy shit_ -

Wash's mouth broke the kiss to moan in a broken, involuntary sort of way, and then he bit his lip to keep any more of those sounds from coming out. He paused, looking down at Tucker. He was barely in but _God,_ it was so hot and tight. He looked over Tucker to make sure everything was still okay.

Tucker gasped and shut his eyes tightly. His thighs were shaking and his mind was short circuiting as he felt Wash pushing into him. He tightened his hands into fists, scraping his nails over Wash’s skin, and let his mouth fall open.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy goddamn _fuck_ , Wash was big. Tucker was stretched over him, just the head so far but _Jesus_. Tucker let out a loud and embarrassing moan and rolled his hips to take Wash in faster. Whenever Wash moaned, Tucker felt his cock twitch. He brought his hand away from Wash’s shoulder to rub his thumb over Wash’s bottom lip before leaning up to kiss the abused skin. “Please let me hear you, too.”

Wash nodded, letting his mouth fall open in another moan as he began to move again. 

"You feel- you feel good, Tucker, _fuck_!" Wash breathed, tilting his head to kiss him again. The kiss was slightly sloppy, and he pulled away to give a slight laugh that turned into a sort of whimper. 

Tucker whined and leaned forward, thoughtlessly trying to chase after Wash’s lips. The praise from Wash sent him soaring, the thought that Tucker could make Wash feel good was addicting. Tucker wanted nothing more than to give Wash more. He wrapped his legs around Wash’s hips and turned to bury his face into Wash’s shoulder. Tucker rocked his hips up, drawing in a quick breath at the feeling, before pressing messy kisses over Wash’s shoulder. He kissed up Wash’s neck and nibbled gently on his earlobe. 

Before Wash knew it he was all the way inside Tucker, and he had to stop and take it in for a moment. He breathed in deep, pressing a kiss to Tucker's temple. 

"I love you." He breathed. 

Tucker grinned and leaned back to kiss Wash as hard as he could. He rocked his hips against Wash, enjoying the full feeling. 

"I love you, too. So much." 

"Does it feel okay?" Wash asked between kisses. He pulled back a little, then pushed back in. 

"Better than okay," Tucker took a deep breath and rocked his hips. His head rolled back and he moaned. "A little...maybe a little overwhelming. The stretch is fine. Better than I dreamed. Fuck, you're- this is actually happening." Tucker let out a watery chuckle. 

Wash smiled in response, and pulled back almost all the way before slowly sliding back in. He moaned obscenely, squeezing his eyes shut as he did. 

"I-I want to overwhelm you." Wash whispered. 

Tucker was actually physically trembling. He held onto Wash like if he let go, everything would slip through his fingers. He gasped and thumped his head against the pillows. "Please." 

Wash picked up the pace, but just slightly. He wanted to drag Tucker to the edge, not to mention get used to this before they started pounding into the mattress. He licked a stripe up the line of Tucker's neck while he moved inside of the other boy, moaning into his skin in pleasure before pressing kisses to his jaw. 

Tucker bounced slightly against the mattress, arching his back and moving his hips to meet Wash’s. He shivered at the feeling of Wash’s saliva cooling on his skin and Wash’s mouth hot on his jaw. He’d lost track of the noises that were coming out of him a long time ago, leaving his remaining brain power for writhing underneath his boyfriend. 

“Wash-” Tucker started, cutting himself off by moaning, “Faster, pl-please.” 

Wash stopped holding back, biting down slightly on Tucker’s neck as he sped up, and reveled in the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. Not too hard as to hurt either the bed or the wall, or hurt Tucker. But fast enough to practically lose his mind with pleasure. 

But he wanted Tucker to come first, so he gathered enough coherent thought to reach a hand between them and wrap it around Tucker’s cock. 

Tucker whined and rolled his head to the side to give Wash more skin to work with. His hands slid into Wash’s blond hair and he pulled it harshly. His hips quickly lost all sense of coordination with his boyfriend’s, moving into Wash’s movements whenever he could rally up the remnants of his sanity, but mostly just ending up twitching and letting Wash take whatever he wanted. 

“W-Wash, I’m gonna-” Tucker cut off his own whine whenever a particularly deep thrust hit his prostate. The world underneath his eyelids burst into whites. He practically screamed Wash’s name as he spilled over his own stomach and Wash’s hand. 

Wash cried out, trembling as Tucker’s muscles spasmed around him. The sound and feeling of Tucker coming pulled him to the edge, and he moved his hips back and forth one last time before he came as well, head dropping to bury in the crook of Tucker’s neck. 

Tucker combed his fingers through Wash’s hair gently and thoughtlessly as he tried to come down from the most mind-blowing orgasm to date. He let his ankles unhook and fall down onto the bed. The movement caused Tucker’s hips to move and for Wash’s softening cock to be jostled inside of Tucker. He cried out a bit at being so oversensitive, any semblance of deep breaths going out the window. 

He ran one hand from Wash’s hair to brush over Wash’s next lovingly before gently pushing Wash’s shoulder, “You should probably get out of me before all of this dries and I lose all of my sex appeal by being clingy as fuck.” 

Wash shook his head as he gently pulled out, the feeling of the come in the condom making him frown. 

"If anything, that adds to it, to know how much you want to just be near me." Wash said softly, feeling...feeling blissed out but also insanely raw and exposed. But not entirely in a bad way. He stood, wincing at how stiff his legs where. He pulled the condom off and threw it in the garbage, then headed to the desk and pulled a couple tissues out of the box before returning to Tucker. He wiped his hand and Tucker's stomach off, placing a soft kiss on his forehead as he did. He wanted to say something, about what they had just done, but no words seemed to be able to describe what he was feeling. 

“I’m glad you think so because every time I do it, I feel just a little ridiculous.” Tucker turned towards Wash and curled up a little, sweat cooling on his skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. He reached out and curled his hand into Wash’s. He was beginning to feel the clinginess, the self-consciousness. “Hey, I love you.” 

Wash smiled, wrapping his arm around Tucker and pressing kisses to his hair and face. 

"I love you, so much. You're so amazing. That was so amazing. I'm so fucking happy, all I've ever wanted was to be with you." 

Tucker shivered and curled closer into Wash’s chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, hiding his small smile. “I want that, too. God, tell me this isn’t a dream. Tell me I’m not gonna wake up alone.” 

"Never. You're never gonna wake up alone. I love you and it's the realest thing on the planet. I want to be with you...always. I was just too afraid to ask." Wash murmured, eyes pricking with emotions. He wrapped his arms tighter around Tucker. 

Tucker let one tear fall onto Wash’s neck as he clung tightly to the boy he loved. “I wouldn’t have been able to say no to you. I would’ve worked harder, tried anything. If you ask me to stay, I’d never be able to leave. That’s why I avoided it.” 

"It's okay now. It's all gonna be okay. It's gonna be fucking amazing, actually." Wash assured Tucker, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back. 

Tucker nuzzled closer into Wash’s neck. “Fuckin’ bet on it.” 


	30. the beginning

Wash blinked awake to the feeling of pins and needles in his arm, hair tickling his nose, a body pressed against his, and drool pooling on his collar bone. He looked down, sleep still tugging at the back of his mind. He smiled softly at the sight of Tucker snoring softly and spread out over Wash’s chest.

He tightened his arm around Tucker’s waist and leaned down to kiss his forehead, laughing lightly whenever Tucker’s face scrunched up and a whine left his throat.

“Love, come on,” Wash ran his hand over Tucker’s dreads. “It’s morning.”

“I’m sleeping,” Tucker grumbled and nuzzled in closer to Wash’s chest.

“No morning sex, then,” Wash let out an overly dramatic disappointed sigh.

“I’m awake,” Tucker pulled away from his chest. He took Wash’s hand from his hair and brought it to his lips to brush kisses over his knuckles. He looked up at Wash and grinned slowly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Wash smiled and cupped Tucker’s cheek, pulling him forward to kiss him soundly. “Even whenever you make my arm fall asleep and drool on me.”

“I warned you,” Tucker scrambled off of Wash’s arm. “I told you that if you left it there--”

“And I told you that holding you was worth it.”

“You romantic, self-sacrificing piece of shit.” Tucker chuckled and shook his head. He pushed Wash down onto his back and started peppering kisses down Wash’s neck. Wash moaned and rolled his head back. “Last night was nice.”

Wash hummed and rested his hands on Tucker’s waist. “It was.”

“How much more lube do you have?”

“Enough,” Wash flipped Tucker onto his back and straddled Tucker’s hips.

\---------

About an hour or so later, Wash and Tucker headed down the stairs fully dressed, intent on breakfast.

Jason's sat behind the counter, reading something on his phone with a bowl of cereal in front of him. Wash made a direct beeline for the toaster, but Tucker paused by the farthest counter, frowning down at something on it.

"Uh, what is this?" He asked, causing Wash to turn to look at him. Jason didn't even glance up from his phone, but he couldn't help but smile.

"It's just something I picked up while I was out last night." He said, as casually as he could. Wash crossed over to where Tucker was standing, and his eyes went wide. On the counter, in a plastic case, was a large cake. Spelled out on top in icing letters where the words " _Congratulations on the sex!_ ".

Wash felt his face go bright red, but Tucker just started laughing, and soon they all where. 

"It's chocolate with vanilla icing. I thought that would be more appropriate than the other way around, but I could be wrong."  
Jason shrugged. Wash made an inhuman noise, and turn to give his father a look he himself couldn't even identify. Tucker was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. 

"Don't stare at me, you two are too loud for your own good! I already ordered a pair of noise canceling headphones. I need my beauty sleep, thank you very much." Jason said, trying to stop laughing and regain some semblance of composure. Tucker only howled louder, and Wash just snapped his jaw shut and grabbed a knife to cut the damned cake. 

\---------

Months had passed. 

Wash watched from his place with the rest of the end of the alphabet as Tucker walked across the stage and accepted his diploma. Tucker who--as it just so happened to turn out--was number three out of the entire senior class. The blond watched with a proud smile and clapped whenever Tucker moved his tassel over.

He laughed loudly whenever--as Tucker had promised Claire--Tucker stuck his tongue out and made the goofiest face he could.

And then, before he knew it, his own name was being called. He was given a paper, shook the hand of the principal that he had never met, and smiled out at the crowd as he moved his own tassel.

Before he could even get lost in his own thoughts again, the ceremony was over. Tucker ran over to him and flung his arms around Wash’s neck, kissing him with more force than they ever had before--enough force to send Wash back a couple of steps before his mind caught up. He wrapped his arms around Tucker before lifting him up, Tucker’s legs wrapping around Wash’s waist on instinct.

They pulled away and grinned at each other, faces flushed and expressions full of love.

“Hi,” Tucker beamed down at Wash, who laughed and kissed Tucker again.

“Did I tell you how I proud I am of you?” Wash asked Tucker. Tucker threw his head back and laughed.

“Only sixteen times today.”

“Good! You deserve all of it!” Melinda declared, drawing Tucker and Wash’s attention away from each other and towards the crowd and beaming parents and friends. Wash sheepishly let Tucker down and they both tried to pull themselves together.

“I’m so glad I got a picture of that! You two are such an adorable couple!” Donut spoke with an easy grin as he continued to take pictures of everyone with his too-big and very bulky camera.

“You wanna send it to me?” Jason asked, leaning over Donut’s shoulder to look at the camera. “I need more pictures of them for over the fireplace.”

“You have like twenty pictures of us over the fireplace,” Tucker pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but I’m going to give some of those to you to decorate your apartment. Also, I don’t have any of the two of you after you graduate _high school_!” Jason stepped forward and pulled them both into a hug, ruffling their hair playfully. “I’m so proud of you!”

Wash beamed up at his father, feeling slightly out of it with joy. After falling so far behind when he'd just stopped caring about school, he’d never imagine he could catch up in time. That all seemed like a lifetime ago.

He turned to smile at Tucker. "So, what restaurant should we all go out to eat at?" 

Tucker's face fell, and he looked away. Angela started to say something, but stopped when she too saw this. Church, who had been hanging back this whole time, took a step forward. 

"Is something wrong love?" Wash asked.

Tucker shook his head. "Nothing. You can all go out, but I'm gonna stay here for a while. My parents were supposed to come, so if they come at all, it'll be late."

The atmosphere immediately shifted, and everyone exchanged dark glances.

 

"We'll stay here as long as you're here. We can't exactly have a family dinner without you." Jason shrugged, taking a seat again. The rest did the same, besides the Reds and Blues, who had their own families to get to. They said goodbye happily and Tucker couldn't seem to look any of them in the eyes. All except Church, of course. 

Church stepped towards Tucker and slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his side for a half-assed hug. “I’ve been dying for an excuse to blow off family dinner tonight, my friend, and you have provided one that will not only make my dad feel guilty but will also keep ‘Lina off of my back.”

Tucker grinned shakily up at his best friend. “Well, whenever you put it like that, you owe me a favor.”

“Nah, you still owe me five bucks,” Church shot back, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Are you still loaded?” Tucker raised both of his own eyebrows back.

“Yes and that is not an excuse,” Church blinked whenever he realized just how close he and Tucker’s faces had gotten and pulled away. He took a deep breath and repeated his mantra back to himself. _Tucker and Wash are in a relationship. We were all drunk that night. ‘Lina would kill you if you fucked them up too. Tucker and Wash are in a relationship. We were all drunk that night. ‘Lina would kill you if you fucked them up too._

Tucker blushed lightly before flicking his gaze over to Wash who had been grinning at the exchange. Tucker made his way over to his boyfriend and sat down beside him. Wash wrapped his arm around Tucker as the shorter one leaned in to whisper--making sure no one else could hear. “So, plan to seduce Church still approved?”

“Oh, definitely.” Wash laughed before grinning up at Church and chiming in on their earlier discussion. “You know, you could say that you staying here would make you two even.”

“Nah, Wash,” Church shrugged, but kept up his cocky grin. “You see that’d be what we in the medical field of psychology call ‘too easy’.”

“I believe you are what we in the educating field call ‘a pain in the goddamn ass’.” Tucker shot back.

“Tucker, that’s unprofessional!” Melinda chided goodnaturedly, “It would just be ‘damn’ because ‘goddamn’ would offend people!”

Wash huffed out a laugh, “The more you know.”

“You know,” Jason leaned back in his chair and gave Wash a soft smile as he whispered to his sons. “Thena would be very proud to watch the two of you today. She was and would be proud everyday--of course--but today...she always talked about how far you two would go.”

Wash felt his heart twist painfully, and his smile fell. He looked down at his shoes, resisting the urge to close his eyes.

"She'd have yelled and whooped so obnoxiously they would have to ask her to step outside." Wash said softly, voice nostalgic but pained. He felt Tucker stiffen slightly next to him, and sensed Tucker's head turned towards him before looking up towards the sky. 

Jason chuckled. "I don't doubt it. Not that they would have ever gotten her to comply." 

"Did Thena ever comply to anything?" Tucker whispered incredulously, earning a huff of laughter from both of them before it grew quiet again. Angela and Melinda were talking in hushed voices behind them. Church was studying his cuticle situation intently. 

The silence wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. Slowly, more and more people left, until their only company was the swarm of janitors. A woman in a suit approached them.

"Excuse me, are you waiting for something? This area needs to be cleared, I'm sure we can find somewhere else for you to wait..." She offered. Jason opened his mouth to say something new, but suddenly Tucker stood up and smiled at her.

"No thank you. I was waiting for my family, but they're here now." He said, gesturing towards them. Wash stared up at him, words striking his ears like the sweetest song on earth. The woman turned away as they all stood up, looking at Tucker with tender expressions.

"C'mon, let's go get something to eat. Together." Tucker said, wrapping an arm around Wash. Jason rested a hand on Tucker's shoulder, and Church fell in line next to them. Melinda and Angela exchanged a smile as they began to walk.

"Together." Wash echoed, feeling like the weight of the world was finally off his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's over! This is the end of this. I'm sorry but life has happened and a sequel is no longer in the works for this story. I apologize for letting anyone down--it isn't Kira's fault, it's mine. 
> 
> I cannot, in good faith, continue to write fanfiction for RVB. Personal things and morals are involved, and I'm sure you do not want me to start rambling in here.
> 
> Once again, I apologize.
> 
> -Melissa

**Author's Note:**

> hey, everybody should go check out the awesome mix that the bae made for this story:  
> http://8tracks.com/snorkletuckington/fuck-the-police


End file.
